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OLD FUSEE; 

OR, 

THE CANNONEER’S LAST SHOT. 


_A. Story of Aiitietam. 

By ANTHONY P. MORRIS. 


Copyrighted, 1883. 

Entered at the post-othce, N. Y., as second class matter. 


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.*• 


• r *- » • 




I 



) 





Vol. I 


No. 4. 


POCKET EDITION. 


OLD FUSEE; 

OR, 

The Cannoneer’s Last Shot. 


A TALE OF BLOODY ANTIETAM. 



NEW YORK. 

NOVELIST PUBLISHING CO., 
Nos. 18 and 20 Rose Street, 

1883. 




Copyrighted 1883, by The Novelist Publishing Co 


OLD 


CHAPTER I. 

A SOUTHERN SYMPATHIZER. 

It was on the eve of one of the remarkable and decisive battles 
of the great civil war. 

The famous Confederate General Lee had crossed the frontier 
iuto Maryland, after several conquests, and" the Union army 
found itself in a condition merely defensive and rather humiliated 
before the nation. 

Dismay was in the shattered ranks of the battalions at the capi- 
tal after Pope’s disastrous campaign; bht a vast thrill pervaded 
the weary army when it was known that once again the soldiers’ 
favorite chieftain, McClellan, was to reassume command of the 
nearly vanquished troops. 

At the date on which our story opens, the brave and able general 
who now guided the destiny of the blue clad host had been fortu- 
nately apprised of Lee’s intention to possess himself of Harper’s 
Ferry, and even then the former was in a position to succor Colo- 
nel Miles — having brilliantly swept open the passes of South 
Mountain and sounded through the struggle there the signal guns 
that might have apprised the garrison at the ferry of his formida- 
ble proximity. 

But Harper’s Ferry had surrendered to Jackson and Walker, 
McClellan had come too late. 

Not too late, however, to. interfere with Lee’s contemplated 
campaign; for, being aware of the caliber of the general who was 
now marching against him, Lee now saw that a great battle must 
be fought, and skillfully began concentrating his forces for the in- 
evitable struggle. 

East of Sharpsburg, facing the purling waters of the Antietam, 
were the stern fronts of the Southern generals whose names for 
valor history will remember, and the to north, east and southeast 
slowly approached the long lines of blue in grand array beneath 
the flowing glorious stars and stripes. 

Thus matters were when we take the reader to a commodious 


4 


OLD FUSEE. 


dwelling to the west of Sharpsburg, on the Shepherdsfcown road, 
the home of James Bartholemew, a wealthy gentleman whose 
broad acres extended nearly to the glistening shore of the Potomac 
river, winding its snaky course at that point. 

Bartholomew was one of those who, despite the sample of rags 
and suffering and perceptible disintegration which pervaded the 
Confederate host, had partaken of that spirit of enthusiastic sup- 
port for the cause of the South, which Lee had so confidently, and 
it appeared vainly to the greater extent, counted upon as in store 
for him when he began this campaign for the “ restoration of 
Southern liberties ” in Western Maryland. 

A thorough secessionist from the first, he had had no fair or safe 
opportunity of proclaiming his sympathies until now, when he 
saw, as he declared, the advent of the movement which would ter- 
minate in the complete overthrow of the government at Wash- 
ington. 

A man of small stature, with a fringe of whitish-gray hair, a very 
nervous temperament, and twinkling blue-gray eyes that contain- 
ed a cunning expression fairly foxy. 

Foxy he was, for at the age of nearly sixty years he had accumu- 
lated considerable wealth, by speculation and otherwise in the 
management of his land thereabout, and long ago had acquired the 
reputation of being unmistakably miserly in all things excepting 
what contributed directly to his own personal comfort. 

A confirmed bachelor he had ever been, but in the household of 
James Bartholemew there was the fairest young girl of any in all 
the country road. 

No mere ward was she. 

A mystery was woven in the life of lovely Belle Bartholemew, to 
whom he had given his name; and many in the town of Sharps- 
burg could recall the night when he had taken under his roof — 
much to the astonishment of every one— a helpless little infant 
who came from where no one ever could ascertain, and who seem- 
ed to have touched the only tender spot in the miser’s acrimonious 
nature. 

A belle indeed was Belle Bartholemew— known far and near as 
the most dashing rider at this date, and a rare image of combined 
loveliness and purity. 

A brunette of rosy type, with flashing, penetrating, merry black 
eyes, an exquisite figure, a hand that dispensed her miserly pro- 
tector’s money at times so freely among those who deserved chari- 
ty that the old man was wont to storm at her in a rage that in- 
variably ended in a kiss from her rich lips to bring back the smile 
to his wrinkled face. 

Uncle Jim he had always been called by this bright, winsome 
vision of beauty. 

Night lay over the road that wound its circuit before the house. 

The Confederate lines that were marshalled on the west of 


OLD FUSEE. 


5 


Sharpsburg had drawn in oloser to the town, and only a few 
stragglers in gray could be detected now and then in the gloom, 
following carelessly in the wake of McLaws, who had come to 
unite with Lee from the detour b> way of Shepherdstown. 

In the great parlor of this square, stone dwelling, old Bartholo- 
mew was pacing to and fro unrestedly. He rubbed his skinny 
palms together like twining eels, he shook his sparse hair on his 
jerking head, and from his thin lips, muttered : 

“ She’ll be killed ! She’ll plunge her neck into the line of some 
fool of a picket and have her head blown off — I know it! Forever 
riding, forever skipping, dashing, flying about when she ought to 
be shut up out of danger, like any other sensible girl ! I've a no- 
tion to help the jade out in her suicidal intentions — no, no, no, I 
don’t mean that! But she worries the soul and life out of me. 
Hey, who’s this ?” 

For as he half raved about somebody of something which seemed 
to cause a sort of frantic uneasiness, there was a heavy footstep on 
the broad porch, and a small darky came running in with the in- 
telligence that a visitor had arrived. 

“It’s de Massa Cap’n wot hes de big ’staches,” announced the 
boy; and with eyes still rolling, and turned in the direction of the 
person approaching, the boy sidled in a manner of deep awe 
around the door jamb. 

The comer was a tall man of fine physique, attired in a full suit 
of gray, with great slouch hat, wearing a heavy sword at his belt, 
and in the belt a monstrous pistol. 

His face was not unhandsome, but there was something about 
the sinister curl of his immense black mustache and in the piercing 
black eyes, that seemed to repel the beholder. 

A doughty Confederate was he— Captain Jack Striker, of Jack- 
son’s division. 

As he appeared, old Bartholomew hastened forward to greet him 
warmly. 

“ Ah, my dear captain. You are back among us again. I’m glad 
of it ; I do not know of any one I would rather see enter my house 
than yourself, excepting it be General Lee himself. Be seated,” 
wheeling forward a chair. And he called sharply: “Pomp!— 
Pomp! you son of night ! where are you?” 

“Hyar, Massa James.” 

“ Wine, Pomp— bring us some wine — and cigars, too, Pomp. 
Hurry, there!” 

While the negro lad hastened for the refreshments, Captain Jack 
Striker seated his large form in a chair with the air of a man who 
feels that he has a perfect right to the fullest hospitality of the 
house. 

But there was a slight frown on the captain’s face as he half-ab- 
sently answertd to the other’s nervously rattling volley of ques- 
tions ; 


6 


OLD FUSEE. 


“Yes, we’ve just got back from that little affair at Harper's 
Ferry. It was an easy matter to run the Yanks in from the 
heights, and some blood was spilled. Miles got his death wound, it 
has been rumored by the scouts— all the better. But I did not 
come here to talk of that fight, friend Bartholomew. I have some- 
thing important to say to you ; and if you don’t want your house 
pulled slam down about your ears, you’ll pay close attention, and 
take summary action upon the subject I mean to communi- 
cate ” 

“My house pulled down you say?” 

“Precisely so.” 

“ Why, what in the world But here is the wine. Have a 

sip, my dear captain. Light a cigar. There — what are you talk- 
ing about? My house pulled down ? Explain.” 

And now for the first. The old man noted two items in connec- 
tion with the visitor which had escaped him : 

The captain was rather scrupulously attired for a man who had 
lately emerged from a battle— for there had been a considerable 
struggle between the blue and the gray at Maryland and Loudon 
Heights ere Miles had yielded up the triad of mountains ; and the 
second item was the frown mentioned, which contracted the brows 
of Jack Striker in a somberness that had first made itself felt upon 
the awed negro lad as he entered. 

With his own glass poised in hesitancy near his lips, James Bar- 
tholomew looked searchingly at the Confederate officer, the exi 
pression of his countenance one of wondering perplexity. 


CHAPTER II. 

A BLUNT PROPOSAL. 

The words next uttered by Captain Striker, for some weighty 
reason, caused the face of James Bartholemew to pale slightly. 

“ Do you want that ward of yours to run your neck into a hal- 
ter, or bring you out before a platoon of soldiers to be shot ?” 

“Halter! Shot!” 

“I said it.” 

“ I do not see what you are driving at?” 

“ Listen, then, and you will understand. Perhaps you are not 
aware of the doings of Miss Bell. But these are times when mili- 
tary people judge a man’s proclivities by his surroundings to some 
extent, especially if a member of his own family is guilty of 
strange doings not consistent with the profession he makes 
aloud ” 

“My dear sir” — breaking in nervously — “please tell me what 
you are getting at? What have I done? What has anybody 
done ” 

“Ah, now you speak it”— dashing off his liquor at a gulp. 
“ £Tow, you strike the key. What has anybody done ? Miss Belle 


OLD FUSEE. 7 

has done, is doing, something that will bring destruction on you 
as sure as you stand there.” 

“ She ! Impossible ! Belle would not do anything to compro- 
mise either herself or me.” 

“ There you are wrong. Sit down. Let us discuss this thing 
quietly.” 

With wide eyes, Bartholemew seated himself in an opposite 
chair, staring at the captain in astonishment. 

“ I am afraid,” said the gray-suited officer, “that your ward, 
Miss Belle, is not so stanch a Southerner as she has led you and 
me and everybody else to think. Wait, now, I will explain my 
meaning. We know that ever since McClellan left Frederick, 
his couriers and spies have been thick all over the locality be- 
tween here and that place; some of them, fortunately, have been 
captured and strung up. But there has been one, it seems, that 
the shrewedest of our army could never trap, and who must be 
the one who was so cunning as to get possession of the order from 
Lee to Jackson and McLaws, sending them to capture Harper’s 
Ferry, and which order was revealed to General McClellan. The 
spy of whom I speak is a woman — so the scouts say.” 

“ A woman !” 

“Yes, and no ordinary one, either ;” with an ominous twinkle 
in the black, piercing eyes. 

“ Well, sir, well ?” 

“ She is seen, at times, dressed in a riding habit of gray. At 
other times, it is believed, she has successfully assumed the garb of 
a farm boy, and numerous masquerades besides; a very smart 
young girl, in fact, who had better be devoting herself to the cause 
which she leads everybody to believe is the paramount love of her 
heart — the good cause of the South.” 

“ But I fail to see your drift. There are more women than one, 
so I have heard, doing just such service for both the North and 
South. There is nothing remarkable about it, that I can see. You 
must be keeping something back.” 

The captain tilted back in his chair and stroked his long mus- 
tache while he gazed fixedly at Bartholemew. 

“You are very dull of comprehension.” 

“I must admit it.” 

“ Have I not said that your ward, Miss Belle, would cause you to 
be shot as a Yankee sympathizer if you do not put a stop to her 
doings ! No, I did not exactly say it, either; but that is what I 
mean.” 

“ What!” as the other’s meaning dawned upon him, “you hint 
that Belle is a spy for the accursed Yankees ?” 

“That is just what I declare.” 

“ Preposterous !” 

“ You will find out to your cost that there is nothing preposter- 


8 


OLD FUSEE. 


ous about it, but a succession of hard facts. In plain words, Miss 
Belle is a spy.” 

Old Bartholemew seemed too overcome by surprise for utter- 
ance. He stared into the captain’s face like one bewildered. 

“ But it is not yet common knowledge that such is the identity 
of this bold young lady’” pursued Striker, letting his chair down 
and tilting it forward the other way confidentially, while his voice 
sunk lower. “ I may say that there are not a half dozen besides 
myself who have penetrated the secret.” 

“ But it is a most ridiculous suspicion.” 

“No suspicion at all, I say; it is a fact. Now let me tell you that 
it has not been twenty-four hours since I saw Miss Belle in conver- 
sation with a very suspicious character at the Potomac ford to 
whom she gave a package of papers. Could you swear as to where 
she was just twenty -four hours ago ?” 

A half smiling exclamation broke from the old man. 

“ Yes, sir; yes, I can.” 

“ Oh, you can ?” 

“Undoubtedly. She was here in this house; I saw her at exact- 
ly twenty-four hours ago ascending the stairs to the library. I 
spoke with her.” and as if he had utterly overthrown any suspic- 
ions which the captain might have entertained, he rubbed his eely 
fingers in and out in satisfaction. 

“ Have you any proof beside your own word ?” 

“ Why, captain!” in astonishment that his own word was not en- 
tirely sufficient. 

“ Because,” added Striker, “ if there comes an investigation you 
will need it, the additional proof, I mean.” 

“Pomp ! Pomp!” called the old man, a little excitedly. 

“ Hyer, massa.” 

The white eyeballed negro youth seemed to be ever within sound 
of his master’s voice. 

“When did you see Miss Belle last? For,” to the captain, “ to 
tell the truth, I have not seen her since last night.” 

“ Seen de Miss Belle las’ night,” answered Pomp. 

“What time?” 

“ Jes’ ’bout dis time, Massa James.” 

“Would you swear to that, you little rascal?” put Striker, 
wheeling frowningly upon the boy. 

Pomp must have understood the nature of an oath, for he re- 
plied promptly : 

“ Deed I would. Gi e -es I knows Miss Belle.” 

Bartholemew dismissed him. 

“So you see,” laughed Bartholemew, though the laugh was not 
as free from uneasiness as he would have wished it to appear, “ it 
would be impossible, my dear sir, for the young lady to be in two 
different places at the same time.” 

Captain Striker seemed to be somewhat puzzled. 


OLD FUSEE. 


9 


He arose and began walking thoughtfully before the old man 
and muttered . 

“There is a mystery here, then, for I will make oath that I saw 
Miss Belle at the ford, talking with a man who wore a big white 
beard. I was within twelve feet of the pair, and I very plainly 
recognized her voice. 

“ If you thought you had discovered a mare’s nest, and came to 
put me on my guard, I am all the same obliged to you,” said Bar- 
tholomew, and it was evident that he was in earnest. “ But you 
see you must have been mistaken, so there’s an end of it.” 

Striker resumed his seat. He regarded the other steadily over 
the rim of another glass of wine which he filled, and when he had 
carefully wiped his long-ended mustache, said : 

“ Friend Bartholemew, I hope I am mistaken, but my eyes sel- 
dom deceive me. I have sharp eyes, let me tell you, Yes, as you 
suggest, I only spoke of the matter through friendliness to you. 
And now let me speak of another thinjr.” 

“ Yes, let us talk of something else,” agreed Bartholemew, visibly 
glad to drop the subject of supposed suspicious doings on the part 
of his dashing and beautiful ward. 

“ Take a good look at me. I am not such a disagreeable appear- 
ing man, am I?” was the quite surprising question that next came 
from the captain. 

“Well, no; rather a handsome man, if I do not flatter you too 
broadly.” 

“ And I have the honor to stand pretty well in your esteem, I 
believe, eh, Bartholemew?” 

“ High indeed, sir, “ answered the wondering old gentleman. 

“ Then, sir, let me say that the chief object in my coming here 
to-night is to ask that I may have your permission and aid iu 
securing the beautiful Miss Belle for my wife. I am, as you know, 
pretty well supplied with the necessary cash to ” 

“ Heigho !” breaking in. “ Are you in love with my ward?” 

“ That is precisely it.” 

“ This is a surprise.” 

“ Will you aid my suit with her?” 

“ Now that is something,” half whined old Bartholemew, “ that 
I must hesitate to undertake. Belle is pretty much her own mis- 
tress. I have no objection to such a match, but to aid you 

Hark ! I think she is coming now. Suppose you try your suit your- 
self.” 

And as if glad of an interruption that just then occurred, he 
arose and stepped toward the hall. 

The interruption was a sound of rapidly galloping horsehoofs on 
the short path leading up from the road to the house. 

Pomp, the negro boy was seen to flit swiftly past the doorway, as 
if to meet the comer. 


10 


OED FUSEE. 


Captain Striker stood facing the entrance, stroking his mustache 
in quiet expectancy. 


CHAPTER III. 

BEEEE bartholemew. 

While he stood at the door waiting the entrance of some new ar- 
rival, James Bartholemew was saying, in his mind : 

“Forsooth! this Captain Striker is a blunt fellow— a man with 
considerable assurance. Hardly a year have I known him, and 
presuming upon the fact that I have always made him very wel- 
come at my house, he asks me for my ward as a wife as coolly as 
he would for the loan of a horse. I am glad Belle is here. I 
think that is she on the path. Zounds ! I hardly knew how to an- 
swer him.” 

The captain, mentally, as he looked first toward the dark entry- 
way and then at the form of old Bartholemew : 

“He evaded me— the rat! but I have made up my mind that 
Miss Belle is the most beautiful girl I ever saw, and that I shall 
have her for a wife. I think I have a means of compelling both 
him and her to listen agreeably to my offer of marriage.” 

The something which Striker inwardly promised himself was to 
insure the success of his suit for the hand of the Southern beauty, 
has been in a measure shown in his brief conversation of the pre- 
vious chapter. 

In a chapter to follow, the reader will see what good cause the 
Confederate officer had to believe that the young girl was a spy 
for the hated army of the North. 

Outside was heard the hoofstrokes of a dashing rider who seem- 
ed careless whether the horse plunged directly into the house as it 
came forward. 

Suddenly, as if there had been a fierce jerk on the bridle by a 
master hand, the sound ceased, and simultaneously : 

“ Pomp !” rung a cheery, musical voice. 

“ Hyer, Miss Belle.” 

“Yes, it is Belle,” again muttered Bartholemew, not loud 
enough for his companion to hear. “ Now, then, let us see what 
she will say to this bold Captain Striker if he is bold as to ask her 
to marry him — and I think he is bold enough for anything.” 

“ She comes,” passed within the expectant brain of Striker, and 
he fondled his luxuriant mustache and smiled in anticipations of 
promise based both upon conceit and the knowledge that, if he 
chose, he could make considerable trouble in the family of James 
Bartholemew. “ If she will listen sensibly to an offer that auy 
other woman would consider an honor,” he mused, “ then it will 
be plain sailing, and I shall be a very happy individual. If she de- 
clines, I— well, let us see if she will decline.” 


flit) S’tySEE. li 

A quick, firm footstep in the hall, then into the footii Walked a 
very vision of loveliness. 

“ How do you do Uncle Jim ?” 

“ * How do you do ? you say, and you have been gone all day. 
Look, you miss ” 

“There, there, now ; don’t scold. Who ’’ 

She was about to ask who the visitor was, as her eyes rested on 
him suddenly. 

Then : 

“Good-evening, Captain Striker.” 

The captain bowed his profoundest. 

They had not met more than half a dozen times— always under 
her guardian’s roof — but in those few meetings, Belle had detected, 
with a woman’s quick wit, a stamp in the features of Captain 
Striker, which, to a woman, are at once and unalterably repel- 
lant. 

Bartholemew seemed to be briefly hushed by the smiling admon- 
ition not to scold. 

But as the lovely brunette slowly drew off her riding gloves, an 
oppressive silence fell upon the trio. 

“ I have done myself the honor to call this evening, Miss Belle,” 
said the captain, “upon a very important matter which concerns 
both you and me.” 

“ Concerns me ? Important ? What can it be ?” 

“ May I hope that you are not too tired after your unusually 
long ride to hear what I have to say?” 

“ Excuse me,” said old Bartholemew, and he whisked out of 
sight into the hall, mumbling as he went: “Oho! he is bold 
enough. He will jump right into the business of asking her to 
marry him. A dashing fighter is Captain Striker. Let us see if he 
can win a victory here.” 

It was evident by the old gentleman’s expression of face that he 
had no idea of his lovely ward accepting the captain’s suit. 

“ What is it. you have to say to me?” she inquired, constrain- 
edly, and taking a seat not far from the still standing officer. 

“ You must be aware, Miss Belle, that I am a soldier of no mean 
reputation. I am also a man of some means. 1 will be plain in 
what I have to say. I have seen but little of you, but that brief 
opportunity has resulted in my feeling a very deep regard for you, 
and I earnestly desire you to become my wife.” 

He paused, for she had immediately risen, with brows elevated, 
and regarded him in utmost amazement. 

“ Will you accept the offer of my heart and hand, Miss Belle?” 

“ Assuredly — no,” was her ready response. 

And she gazed at him very much as if she thought him out of his 
right senses. 

But the captain did not seem in the least disconcerted by this 
prompt refusal of his offer of marriage. 


12 


OLD FUSEE. 


He bowed his peculiarly profound bow. and said : 

“ It is not altogether unexpected by me— this answer. But be 
kind enough to listen to me ” 

“ Not further upon this subject, sir.” 

Calmly he stroked his mustache, pulling the ends" until his lips 
dragged slightly apart and showed his white teeth disagreeably. 

“It will probably be better for yourself. Miss Belle, if you hear 
what I shall say, since I see that I cannot woo you as a lover might. 
Will you please tell me how long you have been absent from your 
home— where you were at about this hour last night?” 

“ Captain Striker, I consider this impertinence.” 

“ For your own good, answer me,” he urged, in the tone of a man 
who would compel obedience. 

Belle was erect. She gathered her rich, gray hued riding habit 
up over one arm— the movement displaying a dainty booted foot 
that wore a glistening spur— and into her cheeks rose an additional 
color of indignation at the captain’s manner and speech. 

Some quick, resentful word was upon the ripe lips but she con- 
trolled the impulse and merely gazed at him in naughty silence. 

“ For your own good, Miss Belle, tell me, if you dare, where you 
were at about this hour last ni^ht ?” 

“ I decline to answer. Since when were you constituted grand 

inquisitor, sir? Excuse me ” She would have swept past him 

and from the room, but he detained her with outstretched hand, 
and the smile on his bold, dissipated features was ominous 

“ A moment.” 

“Let me pass, Captain Striker.” 

“ Not until I have said what I have to say.” 

Deeper grew the color in the cheeks of the warm blooded South- 
ern girl. 

“ Miss Belle, it pains me,” he said, with a hypocritical tone it 
was impossible to conceal, “to inform you that in these times there 
is little attention paid to sex when a spy is taken in the very midst 
of camp. I am sure it would make me feel sad to see so "beautiful 
a girl as yourself dangling at the end of a rope.” 

“What do you mean?” she demanded, sharply. 

“ Ah, Miss Belle, you wear a popular suit of gray, and you make 
everybody believe that you are a true Confederate. But you are 
playing a dangerous game— a very dangerous game, I assure you. 
Come, 1 know, and there are others who know, that you are in 
communication with the Yankee foe— I myself saw you, last night, 
handing papers to a ragged fellow, a companion spy no doubt, near 
the Potomac ford ” 

He was abruptly checked. 

Belle advanced to a position directly in front of him, and her 
lustrous black eyes flashed a dangerous fire. 

“ You lie, Captain Striker. It is not a pretty speech from a 
woman’s lips— but I say, you lie ! Stand aside,” 


OLD FUSEL. 


13 


“ Beware!' 1 he said, sibilantly. ‘ ; I can prove what I am saying. 
It is in my power to destroy even so lovely a being as yourself. I 
love you ” 

“ You love !” she interrupted, with a cutting sneer. 

“ Ay, and so madly that, if you cannot accept an honorable 
man’s suit, I shall ” 

To her bosom leaped one of her plump, strong hands. The next 
instant she had him covered by the muzzle of a gleaming revolver 
Her voice was terribly impressive as she cried, in an anger still 
under a wonderful control : 

“ Stand away from that door! Hesitate a minute, and as sure as 
there is a Heaven above, I will send a bullet through you !” 

Reckless soldier though he was, Captain Striker was not exactly 
a fool. He must have been aware of her nature, for he instantly 
obeyed the order, while the frowning barrel followed his move- 
ments until he had made clear the way to the door. 


CHAPTER IY. 

A GHOST AT THE STABLE. 

At the moment Belle would have passed by and left her insulter, 
there transpired something that was a little startling, causing her 
to pause. 

From somewhere outside the house there rung up a yell as of 
some one in mortal terror. 

Not a single yell, either, for following the first sound was a suc- 
cession of cries that were almost blood-curdling. 

A step that was recognizable as that of James Bartholemew was 
heard hastening along the hall. 

The next instant he was demanding sternly of some one who ap- 
proached with scampering feet 

“ Hello, here ! what the dogs is the matter? Speak out, you little 
black imp!” 

Following this, the voice of Pomp, wailing, moaning, stuttering 
in overwhelming affright? 

“ Oh, de good Lord ! Oh, sabe me, Massa James ! Oh, de ghost— 
de ghost! Out dar— oh!” 

“ Ghost ? What are you talking about ? Speak ?” 

The pair who formed the tableau in the parlor could hear every 
word uttered. 

Both were listening, to catch whatever the singular disturbance 
might mean, though Belle still held the officer under the aim of 
her gleaming weapon. 

“ I’se done see 1 de ghost, Massa James— fo 1 sure I has. Out dar 
by de stable!” jabbered Pomp, brokenly. 

“ Bah! what kind of a ghost, you scary jackanapes’” 

‘‘Miss Belle.” 

“Miss Belle? How ” 




U OLD FUSEE, 

“ Oh, de good Lord ! Hyer I see Miss Belle go in de parlor while 1 
took de hoss to de stable, and dar—and dar— oh, Massa James!— 
dar 1 see Miss Belle ag’in, a»standin’ dar by de do , an’ ’longshle o’ 
her anoder ghost like debil hisself with ha’ry face, wot skeered de 
life outen me!” 

“Pomp, you little ass, did you put Miss Belle's horse away and 
give him feed?” 

“No, ’ndeedy, Massa James. I jes’ flew away from dar, an’ I 
can’t go back no more dis night, if youse lick de hide off’n me— 
’deed I can’t. De ghost, de Oder presence ob Miss Belle, am a 
stalkin’ roun’ dar.” 

“Bah !” 

And here sounded something like a kick, which brought addi- 
tional wailing from black Pomp. 

Into the captain’s eyes had come a singular light as he heard the 
frightened avowals of the negro boy. 

To Belle it contained no import beyond the fact that something 
had frightened the lad, which he had magnified into a ghost. But 
she did understand that her horse, an animal she idolized, was be- 
ing neglected after the hard ride she had given him, and availing 
of the captain’s prompt obedience to stand aside, she hurried past 
him, giving him no more thought than if he did not exist. 

In the hall she passed old Bartholomew and the moaning, terri - 
fied Pomp, saying : 

“ Don’t scold him, Uncle Jim. He is only a boy, and I suppose he 
has imagined himself frightened at something. I will attend to 
Diamond.” 

Bartholemew returned to the parlor. 

Captain Striker was walking to and fro, his sword raised rest- 
ingly over his arm. * 

“ So you thought you would come back to say good-by to a 
guest, did you ?” he half snapped, turning toward the ratty-faced 
old man. 

“ Now, my dear captain, what is the matter?” 

“ The matter is that I have been rejected. And the matter is 
that I do not mean it shall stand that way. Harkee : 1 believe 
you have that negro scamp trained to swear to anything you may 
say to shield your ward from suspicion. But it won’t work. I am 
going from here to inform Lee, himself, that the worst spy of all 
the Yankee host is Belle Bartholemew. You are harboring and 
shielding her. You know all about her doings. We’ll see if I can- 
not be, at least, revenged upon her if I cannot have her for my 
own; and you will feel what Captain Jack Striker can do when he 
makes up his mind.” 

Striker was evidently in a riot of rage. His thick, dark brows 
were knit in a terrible frown. 

The old man threw himself into a chair with a weary sigh. 

“ I cannot help what you do, captain. I know you are misin- 


OLD FUSEE. 


15 

formed, that you have been deceived by your own eyes. Belle is 
innocent of the charge. But I can say no more.’* 

With an ungen tlemanly oath, the tall captain started from the 
house. 

Hardly had he left the porch, when he was arrested by the ap- 
proach of a squad of mounted men, whose sabers jangled as they 
rode forward. 

“ Hello, captain !” saluted the leader of the new arrivals, famil- 
iarly. “ Have you been long here?” 

Striker was well acquainted with the leader of the rangers. 

“ About half an hour,” he answered, after an exchange of greet- 
ing. “ Why do you ask?” 

“ Let me have a word with you.” 

The ranger leader threw himself from his horse, and beckoned 
Striker to one side. 

“ I am doing a little business on my own account,” he said, in an 
undertone. “ For some time past I have seen a young lady gal- 
loping around the country on a black horse, and she attired in a 
full suit of gray. A'very pretty girl— lovely, in fact. Last night 
she crossed the Antietam below the last bridge. To-night I got on 
her track again, and we traced her ” 

“ Well ?” as the other hesitated. 

“ Traced her here!” 

“Hush!” admonished Striker, quickly grasping the ranger’s 
arm. “ Not so loud, my friend. I am on the same trail. Did you 
recognize this girl, or woman, whom you suspect— for I see you 
have suspicions ?” 

“ Of course I have suspicions. I believe her to be a spy. No, I 
haven’t had a square look at her face.” 

“Then I am further on the trail than you. Be guided by me to 
some extent.” 

“ All right.” 

“ Come inside. You are acquainted with old Bartholomew ?” 

“No.” 

“ Well, I will make you acquainted. Come.” 

The two captains entered the house. 

Bartholemew was still seated where Striker had left him. 

In the old mail’s face was a dejected look; for he had been mut- 
tering: 

“ She’ll be the ruin of me— of us both. What can she be doing? 

I know she indulges in wild rides, but I cannot believe that she is 
false to the Sunny South ? No. Ah ! new-comers.” 

He heard the sound of approaching horsemen without. 

Upon the reappearance of Captain Striker, accompanied by an- 
other in regimental gray, he arose to receive them. 

“A friend of mine,” Striker introduced, “ Captain Sorrel. Be 
acquainted, gentlemen,” 


16 


OLD FUSEE. 


Whatever might have passed upon this introduction, it was in- 
terrupted strangely. 

As the two men advanced to grasp hands, a pistol-shot sounded 
outside. 

It was in the rear. 

Following the shot, a clatter of iron shod hoofs. 

“ Something has happened to my ward !” exclaimed Bartholo- 
mew. 

He ran past the two officers and out to the rear. 

Also curious to know what the shot signified, they followed. 

They were just in time to catch a glimpse — an uncertain glimpse 
in the gloom of the night— of a fleeing rider who was making away 
by the field beyond the stables. This rider was a woman, whose 
long habit streamed far out behind the swift horse. 

An examination of the stable revealed that Belle’s favorite beast, 
Diamond, was missing. 

The rangers, attracted by the shot, had come around from the 
front. 

Striker whispered something into the ear of Captain Sorrel. 

“No!’’ exclaimed the latter; “you don’t mean it?’’ 

“ But I do And I tell you, you are right, for I myself saw the 
girl hand some iiapers to a fellow in rags, at the ford, last night. 
Off with you !’’ 

“Follow me, lads!” cried Sorrel, to his men. 

In a few seconds the rangers, with Sorrel at their head, were gal- 
loping away in the wake of the apparent fugitive. 

“Soho! that is the game this pretty girl r is playing, is it?” he 
muttered, by jerks, on his speeding animal. “ Well, I should hate 
mightily to kill a woman, but if lean come up once more with 
this bold spy in petticoats, I shall either bring her in a prisoner or 
have her bored with bullets, depend!” 

“You see,” said Captain Striker, maliciously, to old Bartholo- 
mew, “ they are even now after your ward. I shall have some re- 
venge, mind that, if I cannot possess the lovely Belle.” 

He wheeled off and was presently lost in the darkness. 

Bartholomew had returned to the house, his own mind in con- 
siderable perplexity. 

“ Can it be that it is so, after all ?” he questioned himself. 

For some time there remained a few negroes at the stable, dis- 
cussing the singular action of Miss Belle, in dashing away as she 
had done, when she had so shortly since returned after a whole 
day’s absence. 


CHAPTER V. 

CHASING A SPY. 

Straight to the center-table, whereon stood the decanter, went 
James Bartholemew on re-entering the parlor. 


OLD FUSEE. 


17 

He took a deep draft of the wine, and while wiping his lips, was 
thinking upon the really remarkable charge made by Captain 
Striker against his ward. 

In another moment his glance rested upon something that had 
not been on the table when he hurried out to see what could have 
caused the pistol-shot. 

A folded paper ! The paper tied with a string to a small pebble. 
Some one must have been within the room during his absence. 
What was the paper? 

Curiously he took it up and unfolded it. 

The next instant he uttered a short, low cry, and half staggered 
back, clapping one hand on his brow. 

What he read upon the paper was this : 

“James Bartholemew, beware! Fane Fusor still lives. The 
sacred trust that was his shall yet be carried out, despite your vil- 
lainy.” 

“His writing! his writing !” burst from Bartholemew’s lips, as 
from one overcome by a combined fear and amazement. “ Can 
the dead rise to life again? Am I dreaming? Save my soul! if 
Fane Fusor is alive, after all, what reckoning will he not call me 
to!” 

Trembling with a great excitement, he filled again the large 
wine-glass and drained it. 

Crumpling the paper into his pocket, he cast guilty glances 
around, and muttered, in a strange way, over and over 

“ Fane Fusor alive! What is going to happen now ? and I can- 
not account for everything I have wasted and I have spent too 
much of the trust ; I have lost sight of one whose life to him, I 
know, was as precious as his own. Curse the fate that ever 
brought Fane Fusor back to life, when I so surely thought him 
dead— dead long ago.” 

A remarkable change had come over James Bartholemew with- 
in those few seconds. He looked now like a man who momentari- 
ly expects to be confronted by something or somebody whose 
presence could terrify him to his soul’s core— looked a very crimi- 
nal, nervous, snapping, searching glances about, and with one 
hand in his pocket crunching the mysterious piece of paper which 
had so wrought upon him. 

While this scene transpired in the home of James Bartholemew, 
far to the north, beyond the sunken road leading to the canal, on, 
on sped the mounted form of a female with the rangers in hot pur- 
suit. 

Surely it must be Belle ! 

She wore the habit of rich gray, the same jaunty hat, the same 
face, beautiful and resolute, beneath the hat. 

She was making toward the woods to the northwest of Sharps- 
burg, and fearlessly she rode the pteed so well known as belonging 
to Belle. 


18 


OXiD FUSEE* 


“ Courage, good horse ; keep it. up, good fellow; we’ll soon be 
safe from those coming behind, ” she spoke to the animal, which 
seemed to be exerting its muscles with an almost human knowl- 
edge of the pursuers in the rear. 

Her voice, too, was the voice of Belle Bartholemew. 

To herjright were the fires of the Confederate army, then stretching 
northward beyond Piper’s and swerved near the Dunker church ; 
further off, the heights whereagreat battle was soon to befought, 
the inner pickets of the Confederate host were nearly to the course 
she was pursuing. 

She seemed to have a thorough knowledge of her rout to avoid 
the sentries, for soon she neared the grim trees and urged the horse 
into their depths. 

Scarcely had she gone a dozen yards when a low, signaling whis- 
tle arrested her. 

“Fusee?” she called, checking on the rein. 

“ Here.” 

Forward from the almost impenetrable shade came the figure of 
a man. 

“ 1 am pursued. Act quickly ; what shall we do ?” 

Even as she spoke they could hear the coming gallop of the rang- 
ers. 

They were closely pressed. 

“Dismount!” said the man. “There are not many. We can re- 
ceive them. Out with your revolver, and use it when they are 
close.” 

On plunged the horsemen. 

Captain Sorrel had strained to his utmost to overtake the fugi- 
tive ere she could reach the shelter of the woods, and he was well 
mounted, for, by the time the girl had dismounted, he and his 
men were at the edge of the trees. 

“ On, boys!” they heard him shout. “ She is in here; four of you 
make around and cross the road and get to the back of the woods. 
She is aiming for the pike.” 

Satisfied that he was on the track of a spy, Sorrel gave these or- 
ders ; for not yet had the brigades of Early and Jackson reached 
their assigned posts on the left, and a bold dash might readily carry 
her safely across or around to the ford at Pry’s mill. 

But the girl and the man, in the silent depths, awaited Captain 
Sorrell, to receive him in a manner that was to be a huge sur- 
prise. 

“ Is it safe to use our weapons ?” asked the girl. “ Will the noise 
not be apt to bring down upon us a force larger than this one be- 
fore us?” 

“ I think not. Ready ! Here they come !” 

Sorrel, followedjby six rangers— four havingstarted immediately 
to obey the order for the interception of the female spy— rapidly 
entered the double gloom of foliage and night. 


i)LD JTUSEB, it) 

“ Now ! }j whispered the man in ambush, to the giri at his side. 
From their covert, the forms of the rangers were plainly out- 
lined against the sky beyond. 

Suddenly there broke the snappy crack of revolvers and the 
whistle of bullets cutting the leaves. 

Both man and girl were good shots, for the discharge produced 
a chorus of howls that told of smarting, if not fatal, wounds* And 
Sorrel, himself unharmed, vented a hot oath as he saw two of his 
men topple from their saddles. 

The unexpected volley had the effect of checking the advancing 
rangers. "Few men, however brave, care to face an enemy they 
cannot see, and whose marksmanship is made manifest to deadli- 
ness. All halted, and while one of the wounded men on the 
ground set up a series of painful moans, the others seemed inclined 
to retreat. 

“ Forward, 1 say !” commanded Sorrel. 

“ But, cap, we’ll be laid out to a man in this place ” 

A curse was upon the ranger captain’s lips when again the re- 
volvers barked, and the second discharge revealing that there was 
a foe more than the pursued girl within the impervious darkness, 
Sorrell also appeared to suddenly think that it would be better to 
get out of the predicament. 

“Back, then !” he ordered; “ but we’ll remain here till we hear 
from the others. Daylight, I guess, will give us a chance to dis- 
lodge whoever is in there.” And to himself he added, in a rageful 
chagrin : “ Blast the girl, if I catch her now it shall go hard with 

her, 1 swear!” 

Withdrawing a short distance he disposed of his men in singles 
over a semi-circle which commanded the whole of that side where 
the spy had entered, and riding to and fro from his improvised 
posts, he waited doggedly for daylight which was yet many hours 
distant. 

“You had better take the information I can give you,” said the 
girl to her companion, and her voice was that of one who must 
have been accustomed to danger, so even was it in the moment of 
this trying adventure. “ It is important, and it matters nothing 
about me. I have been in worse scrapes than this since McClellan 
left Frederick, and I’ve always come out all right, haven’t I, you 
dear old Fusee?” 

“ Bless your bright eyes, yes, you have; but I sometimes fear I 
do a great sm when I let you dash into the dangers you do.” 

“ Don’t worry. There, now, while those fellows are waiting for 
us to come out into their clutches listen to the news and be off 
with it. I know pretty much the whole programme for receiving 
McClellan. I was all through Longstreet’s corps to-day disguised 
as an old negro woman with home-made pies; but the news. The 
bridges are already garrisoned strongly. Only the furthest one 
north will afford an easy crossing, Hill will be on the right. Hood 


20 


OLD FUSEE, 


is dow posting on the [left. The place to attack is on the left. 
Altogether, there are not over forty thousand men in line. That 
is all.” 

“Good-by, then, my bonny Belle,” and with the words, the man 
glided like a specter from her side. 

When alone she performed something that showed she was pre- 
pared for just such emergencies as the one in which she now found 
herself. From a capacious pocket she drew forth four square and 
ample pieces of cloth provided with buckles and extra twine. Iu 
a few minutes she had muffled the hoofs of her horse, and then 
slowly began to move from the spot, making no betrayal noise as 
she went. 

And her companion had called her “ Belle.” 

It surely seemed that the bold Captain Striker was right in 
charging her with being a spy. 


CHAPTER VI. 

OLD FUSEE. 

On this night of the fifteenth of September the Union army was 
fast distributing into its position for the coming battle, as well in 
the darkness as in the light of the late afternoon on which it had 
arrived at the east bank of Antietam creek. 

At his headquarters the great general was planning his method 
of attack with counsellors both wise and impetuous. 

A night not to be soon forgotten by those who survive to-day 
the solemn moments there at Pry’s mill. 

But McClellan, though admirably informed so far of the enemy's 
movements, was then waiting for something of which his brave 
officers knew nothing; and there were those who attributed his 
humor to that same spirit which may have designated fatal slow- 
ness in the army he led. 

The famous strategist, however, knew what he was about. 

The night was far gone when an aide appeared and saluted, 
with the information that some one had demanded an audience. 

Those who stood near saw a sudden light overspread their com- 
mander’s countenance, while he answered, quickly : 

“ Bring him to me at once.” 

A strange looking individual it was that entered. 

A man with a visage that bore the scars of battles in the distant 
past. 

There was but little of his face visible, because of a wonderful 
beard that grew nearly up into his eyes; but on brow and nose, 
and even the eyelids, were marks as from steel slashings. 

Tanned to iron-like darkness, broad shouldered, hands hairy and 
hard, with livid scars on the palms and backs— it required no sec- 
ond glance to see in him a veteran who had faced the shock of 
war in other times than the now active struggle for the Union. 


OLD FUSEE. 


21 

Though surely more than seventy years of age* It would appear 
as if nature had formed a knotty monument of endurance in his 
frame, only showing her seamy ravages of time in the long, snow- 
white locks dangling from his head and bushing from his jaws. 
His eyes were keen — perhaps keener— than those of younger years; 
and his figure, as he stood before his general, had no supine bend, 
but reared with the long trained straightness of the soldier. 

His attire, while of the Union blue, was almost without regula- 
tion in its make up, aud the hat, which he dropped at his feet as 
he saluted, was a battered specimen of an army slouch that might 
have been excellent in other days. 

Such was Old Fusee, the gunner. 

Such in appearance, and his fame as a marksman was known in 
many battles since the notorious defeat of McDowell at Bull Run. 

At this time, he was known to belong with Weaver’s artillery, 
then stationed between headquarters and the turnpike bridge, 
but seldom, except in an engagement, was he to be seen with the 
battery, and few there were who knew the valuable service which 
caused his absence. 

As if expecting to receive something from the comer, McClellan 
held out one hand. 

Fusee advanced, taking from an inner pocket a folded paper. 

“ Thet ’ar, gen’ral,” he said, handing over the paper, “is a map 
o’ the Johnnys as it war to-day— I reckon to-day, corz I got it late 
last night Hood’s moving to the Confed’rate left ; Hill’s droppin’ 
down tow’rd the ’Tomac, an’ all the bridges, ’cept one, is ready to 
blaze hail Columbia into you if you try to pass ’em.” 

“ Except one, you say?” 

“This very one up here— the most north’ard. The rebs hev no 
mor’n forty thousand men to fight agin you. But the best way to 
attack is from the north. An’ that, gen’ral, with what thet ar’ 
map will tell you, is all the news I’ve got.” 

Eagerly opening the rough map brought to him by the veteran 
who was evidently an experienced spy, McClellan dismissed him 
with one of those compliments which he ever paid to bravery and 
faithfulness— a few words, no more, such as made him dear then 
and remembered now among the boys in blue who fought in the 
Army of the Potomac. 

Old Fusee sought his battery at its stand near the Keedysville 
pike, and as he appeared among his comrades, after reporting, he 
was greeted by a shout that told full well his vast popularity. 

When at last he could release himself from the gripping hands 
that would fairly have embraced him, he threw himself down on 
a little knoll on the ridge, his face toward the Confederate lines on 
the other side of the Antietam. 

No blanket or covering needed he. He was a child of war whose 
bones had absorbed the dew on many a camp and battlefield, who 
had fought and fell nigh wounded unto death on that famous field 


i 


22 OLD Ftrsfifi. 

of Waterloo, when the allies thundered the fate of Bonaparte. So 
was but little more than a youth then, but he had held dear to 
heart the memory of the terrible day when he had cast aside his 
drum and snatched up the colors from a fallen standard bearer, 
and in his childish hands bore it amid the shouts of strong men 
dropping dead as they cheered beneath the avalanche of Wel- 
lington. 

A soldier indeed was Old Fusee— and Old Fusee was all the name 
he had ever seemed to own, even when his name was entered on 
the roll for re-enlistment, just prior to the second battle of Man- 
assas. 

Quiet as a child he fell asleep there, his head pillowed on his 
strong arms bent folding under his head ; restful was his slumber, 
while others around were reading old letters from loved ones at 
home, praying for Heaven to preserve them in the coming strife, 
or, others still, passing these few hours before the red carnage in a 
recklessness that bordered nigh to sacrilege. 

Old Fusee had no letters to read ; his prayers were said ; only an 
old, scarred veteran he seemed, with no one to weep if he should 
fall, no one to miss him out of the world’s mass of men. But had 
some one crept near to him as he lay sleeping there, he might have 
been heard to murmur something in the dreams that were his— a 
name which issued from his lips with a tenderness that told his 
fast withering heart was not desolate, some one was very dear to 
him somewhere on the face of the earth; and the name he uncon- 
sciously uttered was : 

“ Belle, Belle ! my bonny, bonny Belle ! Bless your bright eyes, 
my bonny Belle !” 

Short seems the sleep of the soldier who lays on his arm in ex- 
pectancy of the dread battle on the morrow. 

Boom ! 

A gun roused every sleeping eye in the army that had dared to 
sleep. 

The morning had dawned. 

The morning of the sixteenth ; and men girded themselves and 
clinched their teeth in contemplation of what was to come. 

At his own favorite gun stood Old Fusee, first of all to obey the 
bugle call. 

The Confederate batteries on the west of the Antietam had sent 
an early reminder that they were there. 

Promptly were their guns answered by the boys in blue. 

Erelong there raged a very duel between the batteries, and Old 
Fusee appeared to be in his element when came the order to open 
fire on the enemy. 

Stripped to the waist, his broad chest herved up in great knots 
the muscles which had been but hinted at in his loose blouse ; 
though grim was his war-worn visage, a smile, which others saw, 
and which sent a thrill of enthusiasm to the breasts of those who 


OLD FUSEE. 


23 


saw, played around his mouth, and his actious were as calm aud 
trained as if at some mere play amid the shrieking shot overhead 
and around. 

From Weaver’s battery came the shots that told most heavily on 
the hosts on the opposite shore. Yet it was soon manifest that the 
Yankee gunners were far superior, in all their artillery delivery, 
to the graycoats. 

The battle was not to open yet, however. 

Acting on the information he had received from Old Fusee and 
from other quarters, McClellan was concentrating his forces at 
those points whence he would hurl himself upon the stubborn 
lines across the Antietam. 

Hooker was moving to the north, having crossed the bridge. 

Burnside, at the south, was to await the order which, when the 
battle fairly opened, would result in carrying the Sharpsburg 
crest and cut off Lee’s retreat toward Shepherdstown. 

Crests and ridges, valleys and roads, in that early morning, were 
swarming with the opposing hosts that would soon come together 
in the mighty clash of conflict. 

Still boomed the guns of the dueling artillerists. 

Marched and counter-marched the brigades maneuvering for 
position. 

The bugles blew their shrill blasts, the drums beating and colors 
of North aud South, proudly borne by the glittering ranks, were 
floating defiantly on the air. 

Strange aud startling echoes, these, in those picturesque hights, 
where ere long the blood of brave men was to dye the sod in slip- 
pery streams. 

The atmosphere was gradually becoming as if compressed in 
sympathetic readiness for the terrific explosion. 


CHAPTER VII. 

THE MYSTERIOUS NOTE. 

As James Bartholemew strode backward and forward in his par- 
lor, in that excitement produced by the mysterious missive which 
he had found upon the center table, he was presently brought to 
an abrupt halt by one of the most remarkable occurrences in his 
life. 

In the doorway stood Belle Bartholemew. 

And he had seen her, within a few mini tes, speeding far away 
toward the hills, pursued by the rangers of Captain Sorrel. 

He paused still and stiff, gazing in unbounded amazement. 

The young girl s face was unusually pale ; in her dark, lustrous 
eyes there was a singular, a sort of anxious expression. 

“Belle I ’ 

Well, Uncle Jim V* 

“ Why, how the dogs— where did you come from?” 


24 


OLD FUSEE. 


“Come from! 1 haven’t been anywhere.” 

“Youhavenot! Did you not just now start off again on Dia- 
mond, In a wild race, with a lot of mounted men after you ?” 

“ Does it seem so ?” 

She looked at him with a degree of surprise. 

But he marked her pale features — features that he had never be- 
fore known to be other than rosy with buoyant spirits or the ex- 
citement of exercise. 

“ What has happened, girl?” 

“ Nothing.” 

“ Bah ! do not tell me that. You went to the stable yourself, to 
look after Diamond?” 

“Yes.” 

She advanced to a chair. A a she sat down, he noticed that she 
was trembling slightly. 

Quick orbs were the ratty eyes of James Bartholemew. 

“ Belle, there is something going on which is a puzzle to me — 
something which I have a right to know if you can tell me.” 

“ What can it be ?” 

“ Where were you last night ?” 

Now she raised her glorious head, and the wonted light came 
into her eyes as she answered promptly, half defiantly : 

“ With Frank Carlton.” 

“What?” 

He fairly glared upon her. 

“ You were with that accursed Yankee!— that man to whom 1 
declared you were never to speak again.” 

“ There, uncle,” with some of her usual lightness of spirit, which 
ever met him in his moods of anger, “ that was a long while ago, 
at the breaking out of the war. I thought, too, that it would be 
an easy matter for me to obey your commands regarding him, as 
he went over to the side we both abhor. But, ah, me ! it is a severe 
thing to love,” she concluded, with a heavy sigh. 

“Love, forsooth!” he fumed. 

“ And when I heard from him, that he was in this vicinity, I 
could not resist his appeal for an interview. Yes, I met him last 
night.” 

“Where?” with fierce suddenness. 

Then, as she did not at once answer, he continued : 

“ I can tell you where you trysted with this lover whom you 
should hate rather than love. It was at the Potomac ford. And I 
begin to see that you are more than a mere sweetheart; you and 
he are spies in the midst of the army now in Sharpsburg. You 
gave him papers of some kind last night. You are conveying in- 
formation to the enemy. And” — with increasing rage — “ and you 
are no ward of mine. There! I’ve said it. I ought to have said it 
long ago, before you brought this disgrace upon us. I will not 
have a traitor about me! I’ll disown you! I’ll clear you out!” 


OLD FUSEE. 


25 


and he paced back and forth again, as he had been doing when she 
entered, flirting his coat-tails up and down, puffing out his attenu- 
ated cheeks, rolling his ratty eyes anon upon her in the glances of 
a man almost speechless with fury. 

Though accustomed to scolding from the man who had always 
been an indulgent guardian to her, and to whom she had long ago 
learned that she owed everything she had in the world, this was a 
phase beyond anything she had experienced yet. 

Such rage, as was now evidently his, could not be smothered out 
by the banter of ruby lips or twining arms. 

With a quiet dignity she arose, aDd what she said brought him 
to a full stop before her, while it sent another astonisher into the 
mind of a brain already filled with astonishment enough for one 
evening. 

“ Uncle Jim, part of your language I do not understand. But 
you, yourself, have taught me the spirit of independence which 
I think I possess, and I shall take you at your word. You shall 
not be burdened with one who is, as you declare, a disgrace to 
you. You need not clear me out. I will go. But what do you 
mean by saying that 1 met Frank Carlton at the ford ? I was 
nowhere near there.” 

“ Oh, you were not ?” 

“ Positively, no. Ah!” in a sudden remembrance, “ I see, this 
contemptible idiot, Captain Striker, said something about seeing 
me there, too. I am at a loss to comprehend, honestly, Uncle Jim. 
I tell you I have not been near the ford for nearly a week.” 

“Umph!” 

He turned short around and left her. 

Alone, Belle pressed her hands to her temples like one in the 
pain of some deep worriment. 

“ What can it all mean?” she murmured, lowly. “Who could 
have been this strange girl I met at the stable, whose face I could 
not make out in the darkness, and who begged me to aid in her 
flight from a band of men who, she said, were in pursuit of her ? 
What is this tale about my being at the ford and handing papers 
to a man supposed to be a Union spy? I am suspected of dis- 
loyalty to the South— my own sweet, sunny South ! I am in a 
maze to-night. And Uncle Jim never spoke to me so harshly be- 
fore. Does he mean what he has said ? Oh, no ! I cannot think it. 
I will wait until to-morrow, and if he is still angry, then I will 
leave him forever. He has been very kind to me since I was but 
a babe — a babe I was when he became my guardian, he says. It 
will cost me a struggle to leave him, but I will — I will ” 

“ Miss Belle ?” 

A negro girl was standing in the doorway. This was Pomp’s 
sister. 

“ What is it, Topsy ?” recovering herself to conceal from the girl 
that there was aught amiss. 


26 


OLD FUSEE. 


“I'se afraid de paper you gin me fo’ to lay on de table has bro’t 
trouble ’twixt you an’ Massa James.” 

‘‘Paper, Topsy? What paper?” 

“ Why de paper wot you gin me out by de stable fo’ to put on 
dat yere table whar Massa James mus’ boun’ to fin’ hit.” 

“I did not give you any paper.” 

‘‘Sho, chile! an’ hyar’s de gol’ piece wot you gin me too. You’s 
forget hit mighty quick, Miss Belle.” 

“You must be dreaming, Topsy.” 

“Sho! You gin me a fol’ up paper, an’ say, ‘Top, take dis an’ 
lay on de table where Massa James sure for’ to fin’ hit, an’ hyar’s 
a dollar.’ I done done hit. Deni watches fo’ to see if he gotten 
hit. Sure ’nuff, he gotten hit, an’ den — de good Lawd! he’s act 
jes’ sif he war scared a nigh to deaf. An’ den I couldn’t help hit, 
Miss Belle — I jes’ heerd you an’ he’s spattin’ in hyar, an so I’se 
afeard I hadn’t oughter done hit.” 

Belle saw that it was useless to argue the point. Topsy was 
positive ; and Belle knew that she had not seen the girl when she 
had gone to the stable — though she had seen some one else, as may 
be judged by her perplexed murmurings, 

“Have it your way, Topsy. Bring me some wine; 1 cannot 
touch the wine that Captain Striker has drank of.” 

A little shudder of repugnance for the man, and thoughts of the 
man passed over her. 

The girl departed, leaving her young mistress in another vein of 
wonderment. 

“ Could it have been the person I saw at the stable— the stranger 
who was pursued, she said, by mounted men — who paid Topsy to 
perform this errand ? What kind of errand could it have been, to 
cause Uncle Jim to look ‘scared nigh to death?’ I ” 

She paused in her self-questioning as her glance fell upon a slip 
of paper on the carpet. 

It was the mysterious missive. 

In his rage, as he flirted his coat tails up and down, Bartholo- 
mew had unknowingly jerked out the significant communication 
which contained a menace from a dreaded source. 

Leaning forward, she picked it up. 

The next minute she was reading the lines scribbled there. 

“This must be the note Topsy alludes to! Uncle Jim threat- 
ened?— by a party named Fane Fusor ” 

Topsy’s returning footsteps caused her to slip the scrawl out of 
sight in her pocket. 

Hastily swallowing a small quantity of the wine, she hurried up 
stairs to her bedroom, to read again the remarkable epistle and 
rack her brain for some solution of its meaning. 

And scarcely had she disappeared, when Bartholemew re-entered 
the parlor, casting anxious glances about the floor. He had missed 
the paper. 


OLD FUSEE. 


Treacherous paper! — for it contained a hint at some crooked 
deed in the past of the rich bachelor which it would not be well 
for him to let the world know at that day in Belle’s life. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

CAPTUBING A BBAYE GIKL. 

She, whom we left in the woods through which ran the sunken 
road to the northwest of Sharpsburg, could not be aware of the 
picket-like cordon that Captain Sorrel had placed along the front 
of the thicket, nor of the four rangers who had been dispatched to 
intercept her should she emerge at the opposite side of her shelter, 
though the order to the latter had been loudly spoken, the noise of 
the horses’ hoofs and the snarling cries of the men to their panting 
beasts had rendered his words unintelligible to the two in am- 
bush. 

She must have traversed that particularly patch of woodland 
before, as she now exhibited a complete familiarity with it, not- 
withstanding the dense gloom. 

Leading her horse, whose carefully muffled hoofs made no sound 
save a slight crunch on the marly soil and an occasional swish, as 
his hocks turned aside a lithe sprig, she moved along the course of 
the road, though not in it, toward the little branch that made in 
there from the sharp bend of the Potomac. 

We have seen that this girl must be a spy, and, being such, she 
knew that Stuart and the artillery had not reached the position in- 
tended for them near the higher branch and on the same sunken 
road she now followed. 

The girl, at the moment the reader first saw her, was making the 
effort to return to the Federal lines, having accomplished all that 
could have been expected of her before the opening of the fierce 
battle which was to come. 

Many miles had she to go over before the necessary detour could 
be made; for, unlike the man whom she had met in the woods, 
who, in male attire, and bolder and stronger than she, could pass 
dangers that would haye been impossible for her to surmount, she 
was wise to seek avoidance of any exposure that might result in 
her capture. 

She knew, too, by the fact of the recent hot pursuit, that she was 
fully suspected as a spy, and to be caught meant death to her, girl 
though she was. 

When she reached the thinner portion of the wood, she paused. 
All was still, save the distant sounds of murmur and rumbling that 
told of the Confederate army moving through the darkness to 
stretch its wings in readiness for the morrow — all still save the oc- 
casiDnal note of some huge night bird that soared away from the 
havoc its keen scent detected in the approaching dawn. 

“I think I will venture it,” she muttered, straining her eyes 


28 


OLD FUSEE. 


searchingly around. “ A dash through the hills, with the animal’s 
feet muffled may not be observed, and once over the upper branch 
I shall be comparatively safe. Yes, I think I will venture it.” 

Throwing the bridle over the head of the beast, she sprang into 
the saddle with the agility of an experienced trooper. 

“ Now, then, come, my good fellow, you and I are strangers, but 
I have seen your mettle. So, away we go— away for McClellan and 
freedom !” 

But, though the pause and the searching gaze into her surround- 
ing had satisfied her that there was no one near, she had men to 
deal with in the rangers of Captain Sorrel, who were born and 
bred in that mountainous region, and whose cunning at woodcraft 
was of no mean order. 

She did not see the spectral figure of a horseman, scarcely ten 
feet ahead, motionless in an admirably screening shadow, and this 
horseman had discerned her approach at the moment she emerged 
in the thinner portion of the woods. 

Immovable he sat in his saddle, though he could scarcely sup- 
press a cry of triumph as he comprehended that the skulker ad- 
vancing could be no other than tho female spy they were after. 

It was the last man of the cordon stretched out by Captain Sor- 
rel. Had she pursued her stealthy course but a few rods further 
she must have eluded his vigilant eyes. 

The bridle was tightened in her grasp, her dainty boot had 
touched the side of her horse as she uttered the onward word, and 
the animal had taken a quick leap forward, when she was halted 
in a manner to startle even a braver girl than she. 

A loud, a triumphant guffaw broke the stillness of the surround- 
ing, and out of the gloom into the tangled path rode a man on a 
colossal beast. 

“ Halt, there, or I'll drop you with a bullet!” challenged a deep, 
corrse voice. 

Following the command, the man drew and fired a revolver in 
the air, the signal agreed upon between Captain Sorrel and his 
men to indicato the discovery of the girl if she was discovered. 
Promptly was this signal answered by a hail from the next ranger 
below; and then another hail. 

The unfortunate girl knew that she was in the toils. 

But no child was she. 

Instantly she drew from her bosom a revolver, and quite unex- 
pectedly to the exulting ranger there was a lond bang, a flash of 
flame and a bullet cut through his arm, wringing from his ruffian 
lips a yell of pain and anger. 

“ Ho, you cat of the hills ! you’ve shot me!” 

No time was given him to utter more. 

The resolute girl was upon him with weapon leveled for an- 
other shot, and hard dug her heel into the flank of her horse, as 
she boldly charged the man who sought her capture. 


OLD FUSEE. 


29 


Though wounded, the man did not flinch. 

Together came the horses of the two with a grinding shock. 

The revolver cracked again, but its explosion this time was due 
to the collision, and the bullet whistled harmlessly past his head. 

“ Oh, you are a cat with sharp claws, too ! M he blurted, leaning 
dextrously forward and graping the wrist that was raising for 
still another shot, while with his other hand he laid hold upon the 
girl’s bridle by the bit. 

“But I think you are caught at last, my gay and pretty spy ! 
Hold, now, no more bullets, I reckon, from that barker of yours!” 
and by a fierce wrench he deprived her of the weapon, flinging it 
to the ground. 

Not yet had he secured the girl, who seemed inured to danger 
and ready with expedient. 

As she struggled in the saddle, under the grip which was rudely 
fastened upon her, sire heard the galloping approach of the ran- 
ger’s comrades. 

In a few seconds she would be a prisoner. 

Freeing her arm from his painful hold, she snatched from her 
bosom a singular contrivance of tin about two inches long and of a 
double flatness. This she inserted in her mouth. 

The ruffian regained his clasp on the girl’s arm, but as he did so 
something transpired to bring a howl of agony from him. 

Bending close, while she continued her brave struggle, he felt a 
strong blown breath in hia face, and simultaneously it seemed to 
him as if all the fires of the lower regions had been puffed at once 
into his defenceless eyes. 

A hot, penetrating, terrible power had been injected into his 
wide orbs with the breath, causing him to release her, clap both 
hands to his face, and roar forth a wild oath. 

“My soul! Oh, my eyes! Iam blind. You cat; you have put 
out my eyes !” 

Freed from his hold, she urged on her horse, for there was not a 
moment to lose. 

Nor had she, until she cried to the rearing animal, uttered a 
word during the struggle which she felt was for her very life. 

But too long had that encounter lasted. 

On came the rangers swiftly. 

Hearing them, the blinded man bellowed : 

“ Here, here, comrades ! This way. I have her, and she has me, 
forsooth. I am blind. 1 can’t see. She has put out my eyes. 
Catch her ! Kill her ! Shoot the accursed spy ! Oh, my eyes !” 

Ere the daring girl could extricate herself from the bushes that 
tangled round her horse’s feet, she was surrounded by the rangers. 

The voice of Captain Sorrell broke forth jubilantly : 

“ Soho, we have you, eh my pretty! Surrender, surrender, I 
say, or we’ll have to lay you out with bullets.” 

The girl saw that it would be useless to resist now. To defy the 


30 


OLD FUSEE. 


fate which encompassed her might only result in her speedy death, 
for well she knew the reckless venom of those who were figuring 
as rangers and free riders in the Confederate host. 

“I surrender,” she replied, simply. “What do you wish me to 
do?” 

“ Dismount ! Get off that horse,” ordered Sorrel. 

She obeyed. 

“Have you any weapons?” he demanded, having heard enough 
shots to convince him that she must be armed. 

“ No,” 

“You were armed?” 

“ I lost my weapon in the fight with this wretch ” 

“ Wretch, you call me,” whiningly snarled the fellow, who, hav- 
ing dropped from his horse, was stamping about and blubbering 
dolefully while he rubbed his inflamed and burning eyes, only to 
increase their agony. “Wretch you call ihe! By my soul! if I 
could see, and if I had my revolver, I would blow your wildcat 
brains out! Oh, my eyes!” 

Sorrel leaped to the ground and advanced toward his captive. 


CHAPTER IX. 

BULLETS OF RESCUE. 

Raising his broad, sombrero-like hat in a bow that savored of 
mockery, the ranger captain said : 

“Well, Miss Belle, you have led us a hard chase.” 

“ How do you know that my name is Belle?” 

“ How?” surprisedly. “ Oh, come, you are in a good humor if 
you are a prisoner. True, I have never had the pleasure of your 
actual acquaintance, but then everybody well knows the dashing 
Miss Belle Bartholemew.” 

“ My name is not Belle Bartholemew.” 

The man with the burning and blinding eyes, for whose relief 
his comrades were exerting at the moment, broke in here with a 
snort and an oath. 

“ Belle Bartholemew, or Belle Anybodyelse,” he half roared. 
“ Put a bullet through the she-cat spy ! My eyes are out ! She has 
blinded me for life.” 

“ Silence, there!” commanded Sorrel. 

He struck a match and held it near the face of his prisoner. 

The survey he took of her seemed to settle her identity in his 
mind. 

“ As I said, I do not know you as an acquaintance, my bold spy 
rider in petticoats, but I have seen you before now, and I know 
you to be Belle Bartholomew.” 

“ And I tell you that you are entirely wrong. My name is Belle 
Fusor.” 


OLD FUSEE. 31 

“ No matter. Come, now, will you be a quiet captive ? or shall 
we have to bind those pretty arms of yours?’’ 

“No need to bind me, sir; I will go with you.” 

“ Good, then.” 

“ Where will you take me ?” 

“ First back to your home ” 

The girl interrupted with a laugh.’ 

“ What are you laughing at ?” 

“ To my home you say ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Then you will have a long ride. For my home is in Eastern 
Pennsylvania.” 

“ You can’t hoodwink me. Come, mount your horse again ; I’ll 
help you up ” 

The girl disregarded his stirruping hand extended, and with an 
exhibition that showed she possessed muscle as well as beauty, and 
which caused the glances of the rangers to rest upon her with ad- 
miration, she reached her seat in the saddle at a single spring. 

Ever alert for danger in her capacity as a spy, long practice 
had acquired the habit of hasty mounting with an astonishing 
e^se. 

“Lead on, sir,” she said, coolly. 

“ Mount!” ordered Sorrel to his men. 

“ What !” came snarling and angry from the man with the blind- 
ed eyes ; “ you are not going to kill her?” 

“ Lead that fellow to his horse, and lead his horse, too, if he is 
blind, as he says he is,” Sorrel instructed the ranger nearest to his 
side. 

The little cavalcade was about to move forward when there hap- 
pened a strange interruption. 

Suddenly out of the thicket before them flashed a succession of 
flames and 

Bang— bang! came shots from what seemed to be a half dozen 
revolvers. 

The bullets did not all whistle harmlessly by the rangers. 

Two saddles were emptied, and the horses, startled by the unex- 
pected fusilade, uttered frightened snorts, pitching backward, 
then forward, then plunged’away at a gallop. 

Bang — bang ! again the shots. 

The rangers were thrown into a complete panic. 

It was the second time they had been met by an ambush; a 
second time they had seen comrades go down before the Are of a 
foe that was invisible. 

“ Steady!” hollowed Captain Sorrel, his hand hard on the bridle 
of his horse as it reared among the other crowding animals. 
“ Stand ! Charge those bushes ahead ! Rout out this ,f 

His commands were utterly unheeded. No cowards were the 
rough rangers ; but it was no pleasant predicament to find them- 


32 


OLD FUSEE. 


selves being shot down thus without a chance to retaliate upon 
their foe 

For a few seconds there was a confusion of men and horses, and 
then one and all dashed away from the edge of the woods, while 
the revolver, or revolvers, they paused not to consider which, con- 
tinued to bang— bang ! in their rear. 

The girl found herself deserted by those who a moment before 
were her stern captors. 

Almost at her feet lay the two men who had fallen from their 
saddles, apparently dead. 

When the receding sound of the flying rangers told that their 
departure was assured, she was not surprised to hear a voice ad- 
dressing her from the gloom ahead. 

“ Come forward, miss; you have nothing to fear now.” 

It was a rich, manly voice that would have inspired confldepce 
under any circumstances. 

Without any hesitation she obeyed the request. 

A man stepped out in front of her. 

“ Gavo them quite a scare, didn’t I ?” he said, cheerily. 

“You?” 

“Yes. But I am afraid it has left me an unarmed man, for I 
have no extra cartridges with me, and my revolvers are empty to 
a shot. But who are you, miss ?” 

“As you see, a young girl who was in a very tight place,” she 
answered, warily. 

“ And as those fellows were Johnnies, I take it that you are a 
Union girl— and a brave one at that, from what I was in time to 
witness. Have no fear of me, miss; I am a Federal soldier— Major 
Frank Carlton, at your service.” 

She could see, even in the uncertain shadows, that he wore a suit 
of gray — not a military suit, but more like the garb of a young 
farmer. 

“ Why did you fescue me from those men who wear the same 
colors as yourself?” 

“Oh, you mean the gray? Ha, ha, ha! you must not judge by 
looks. I told you I was a Federal soldier— and so I am. Major 
Frank Carlton, of the Pennsylvania Reserves, with Hooker’s corps. 
Pray, tell me who I have had the honor of rescuing from that band 
of Confederates ? Or, better, with your permission, I will look.” 

He drew a patent fuse from his pocket and presently held its 
smoky light near enough to scrutinize her features. 

As he did so, an exclamation of supremest astonishment burst 
from him, and he snapped the fuse shut suddenly. 

“Belle! You here — and in such danger!” 

“Yes, my name is Belle. But how do you know me ?” 

“ How do I know you,” he repeated, in the tone of one overcome 
by a redoubled amazement at such an inquiry. “ Ah, I thought I 
knew your voice, but was not sure. My dear, darling Belle, for 


OLD FUSEE. 33 

Heaven’s sake explain how you came to be in such a plight, when I 
thought you safe at home ?” 

“Stop, sir, please,” she interrupted. “There is some mistake. 
My name is Belle ; but I am not the Belle you take me to be, evi- 
dently. I never met you before.” 

“Belle! this from you? And only last night, when we met again, 
after a separation of years, you told me you had been true to our 
lovers’ vows in the past, and that you would be mine in the future 
forever, if I survived the war? What do you mean by this ? feHave 
you changed in so short a time as a few hours?” 

“ Major Carlton, those rangers from whom you rescued me 
believed me to be a young lady named Belle ^Bartholomew. Do 
you too, think that I am she?” 

Again, and hastily, the major lighted his fuse, taking a second 
glance at a face which the tiny spark revealed to be very beautiful. 

Then he drew back aud uttered, half regretfully : 

“ I see— I am mistaken, but the likeness is truly wonderful and 
would deceive most anyone but me. Yet you say your name is 
Belle?” 

“ Yes, Belle Fusor. Who is Belle Bartholemew ?” 

“ My promised bride, if I survive this struggle between the states. 
Her home is a large stone house on the Shepherdstown road. I 
risked my life to see her, when the army of McClellan marched 
into this locality, and thank Heaven ! I found a true heart ready 
to renew the vows I had feared were broken long ago, never to be 
revived.” 

Within her silent mind the girl was musing : 

“ The stone house on the Shepherdstown road. That is the house 
Old Fusee said I must seek before returning to the Federal lines, 
and find means to convey a certain note to the master of the dwell- 
ing, which I did by bribing a negro girl. Then it is the home of 
Belle Bartholomew, this young lady whom I so greatly resemble? 
And no doubt it yras she who, when I appealed to her to aid in my 
escape from the pursuing rangers, gave me her own horse cheer- 
fully and bade me fly. A noble, generous girl ; and I am proud to 
be mistaken for such a one!” 

At that juncture the major rested his hand warningly upon her 
arm. 


CHAPTER X. 

STRIKER MAKES A CAPTURE. 

This action of the girl’s rescuer was caused by a significant sound 
which both heard distinctly, and near. 

The snapping of a twig, accompanied by a noise like the shuffle 
of a foot amid the brush in a slip. 

“ There is still some one in the woods near us,” he whispered, to 
his companion, 
o 


34 


OLD FUSEE. 


“ One, or more, of the rangers from whom I have been deliv- 
ered,” she suggested, in an equally guarded accent. 

“No ; I hardly thmk so.” 

For many minutes they remained silent and motionless, listen- 
ing, but there was no repetition of the suspicious sound. 

“You heard it?” he queried. 

“Yes.” 

“ But perhaps we are needlessly alarmed. It may have been 
some small game prowling through the night. At any rate, let us 
take the chances. Where do you wish to go ?” 

“ I seek the Federal lines.” 

“ And so do I. Suppose we move on ?” 

The next minute he said, as he walked along by the side of her 
horse: 

“ Ah, you have your animal blanket shod?” 

“Yes.” 

But the girl was not one to betray, even to this man who pro- 
claimed himself to be a Union officer, the hazardous business 
which brought her into that vicinity. 

It was a good fortune, however, which had thus thrown her into 
the company of one whom we now know was the affianced hus- 
band of lovely Belle Bartholemew. 

The Federal soldier lover of the fair Southern secessionist! 

Rather a remarkable fact, considering that the female portion of 
the Sunny South were even more bitter in their hatred for the sol- 
diers of the North than were the fighting sex who made up the 
formidable army of gray. 

They followed the west side of the sunken road, winding cau- 
tiously amid the timber that became less dense as it stretched 
northward; and it seemed that nothing was to molest them on 
the stealthy journey of detour, meant to bring them eventually 
into the Union lines. 

But fate was not yet done with the bold spy who had given her 
name as Bello Fusor. 

By sound more than by sight, they were apprised of the ap- 
proach on their right of lumbering artillery and cavalry, which, 
she informed him, must be Stuart, judging by certain information 
she had gathered during the day. 

Therefore, they diverged further to the left, away from the ad- 
vancing body they could not see. 

“ I strongly suspect that you have been playing the perilous part 
of a spy within the Confederate lines,” he said. 

“Why do you think so?” 

“You seem to be posted in regard to their movements.” 

If she had contemplated any reply to this remark, it was pre- 
vented by an occurrence just then of a startling nature. 

Without warning, like a gliding specter, a man of discernibly 
bulky form stepped out of the shadows in front of them, and event 


OT.Tt ITU SEE. 


35 


in the semi-darkness they could see the gleam of a pair of revolv- 
ers which, extended in both hands, he held completely covering 
them. 

And, simultaneously, the voice of Captain Jack Striker, harshly: 

“Halt, you infernal Yankee spies, both of you!” 

Major Carlton had, as he said, entirely emptied his revolvers in 
his bold deed of rescuing the girl from the rangers. 

Her weapon, we have seen, was lost in her struggle with the first 
ranger who disputed her progress when striving to escape from 
the cordon of Captain Sorrel. 

Both unarmed, and though but a single man confronted them, 
what was to be done, with those gleaming, deadly barrels leveled 
upon them, and behind the barrels a rabid gray coat who, perhaps, 
would really rather kill than capture. 

“ Hoi’ on ! Hoi’ your fire, mister man !” responded Carlton, with- 
out a second’s hesitation, and in a voice so completely unlike his 
natural manner of speech that the girl was hugely surprised; and 
he hurriedly said to her, so low that the party iu front could not 
possibly have heard: “ Make a dash for it, miss. You are mount- 
ed and may escape. He may not be able to hit you in the dark- 
ness; at any rate, liberty is worth trying for.’’ 

“I will do 10, but I will not desert you,” were the brave words 
she whispered back. 

“ Come, do you surrender? or shall I open fire? Hello, there! 
bait ! halt ! I say ! Curse you !” 

For the girl at that instant performed an astonishing feat. 

By a quick and steady pull she swerved her horse half around 
aud struck hard with her heel in his flank. 

Wish a snort the animal took a leap, a leap that saved its rider 
from the bullet that came promptly whistling after her, and in a 
second, horse and rider had vanished. 

The desperate plunge was over an embankment that rose by the 
sunken road at that point. 

Over and down she went fearlessly through a mass of gnarly 
briers heedless of what lay beyond, thoughtless of the lacerations 
of the scrub growth around her. # 

And the horse proved himself well trained to hazardous leaps', 
for he alighted fairly on his feet, and plunged on in response to 
the urgings of his fair and magnificent rider, his blanket-shod 
hoofs making but little noise even over the pebbles that lay sharp 
aud thick in the bed of the road. 

Carlton stood transfixed, gazing at the spot where she had dis- 
appeared, and his soul was filled with admiration. 

“I’ve got you safe enough, anyhow !” ground an unpleasant 
voice in his ears, as a heavy hand griped down on his shoulder. 

“ Say, mister man, don’t you go for to hurt me that there way. 
Well, I swow to ’scats, if you ain’t ’most skeered my sister outen 
her seven wits J” 


36 


OLD FUSEE. 


“ Who was that girl?” ~ J *' 

“ Why, she war my sister.” 

“ Who are you ?” sharply. 

“Me? Why, I’m been a grubbin’ over in the hills yender for 
some folks. I come from Shepherdstown, that’s whar I belong at, 
an’ that’s whar I’m makin’ for; cause I ’lowed there’d soon be 
canyun balls enough over whar I was workin’ at the plow an’ 
grub all ’at was wanted. Say, you’re a ossifer, ain’t you, now?” 

The tall form of Captain Striker bent forward that he might 
peer closer into the face of the speaker. 

The manner and speech were those of a young farmer, truly, and 
the suit of homespun gray was very deceptive. 

But it would appear as if fate was dead against the Federal 
major in his masquerade, for the Confederate captain made a dis- 
covery. 

The suit of gray was merely drawn over the regimental garb of 
blue— carefully to perfection, Carlton thought; and as Striker 
searched the face and then scanned the dress of the man, he de- 
tected that there was another suit beneath. 

At one strong grip and pull he tore away the coat at the collar, 
and, lo ! blue coat and brass buttons were revealed. 

“ Ha! I suspected as much ” 

He had no time to utter more than this. 

Slug! came the fist of Carlton in his face, and the blood spurted 
from his nose in a stream. 

“ Curse you, you Yankee dog !” 

“ A Yankee, but no dog !” retorted the Unionist. 

Then there was the combined breath of two men coming to- 
gether in the clinch of a deadly struggle for the mastery. 

The blow had jarred both pistols from Striker’s hands; and had 
he not been so very large and heavy, and had not the darkness ren- 
dered the blow a little uncertain, Carlton would have surely 
downed him by that unexpected stroke of his fist. 

Fiercely they fought. 

As they fought, Carlton realized that the Confederate must be 
alone, else there would have come assistance to him now. 

Backward and forward they swayed, squirmed, twisted ; round 
and about they tore the sod with their crunching heels. 

But the powerful captain was more than a match for his young 
adversary. 

Twice, thrice he freed one muscular arm, and with the fist of the 
arm he rained blows upon the Unionist’s head, until at last Carlton 
felt his senses reeling. 

Still, manfully, he fought. 

Still, at intervals, fell the terrible blows that were gradually de- 
priving him of strength and consciousness. 

“You infernal Yankee!” panted Striker, seeing that he would 
goon conquer, “I will soon have you a prisoner. Then look oqt| 


OLD FUSEE. 


ar 


We’ve a platoon of guns to riddle the bodies of all such spies as 

you! Now then ” and with the sentence uncompleted, again 

he found opportunity to deal those terrific blows that were over- 
coming his gamey antagonist. 

Suddenly, Carlton, blinded with his own blood, ceased his stub- 
born resistance, and sunk with a groan helpless at the feet of hard- 
breathing Captain Striker. 

“Soho’ I have pounded him to a jelly, have I? Good. But I 
hope I have not killed him.” 

With a singular anxiety under the circumstances he knelt 
to examine the unconscious form of his enemy for some signs of 
life. 


CHAPTER XI. 

A GIKL OF HER WORD. 

Captain Striker had not gone away from the dwelling of James 
Bartholemew when we saw him turn from that gentleman, after 
seeing the rangers of Sorrel start in hot pursuit of the fleeing girl. 

He suddenly conceived the notion that he would like to take 
part in the chase. 

Wheeling short around again, he walked hurriedly to the stable, 
where were the few negroes who still clung to the home of “oT 
Massa James,” and boldly stalked inside, selecting one of the 
horses that Bartholemew managed to keep, notwithstanding the 
drain that had been made on his stock, especially after Lee crossed 
the line into Maryland. 

The very assurance of his act saved him from the delay of in- 
quiry or protest ; and, too, the negroes had an abundance of fear 
for all who wore the gray. 

Mounting with all possible haste, he set out at a brisk canter 
after the rangers. 

Having but an indistinct idea of their exact course, he did 
not keep straight to their trail, and reached the woods at the 
sunken road some distance below the last man sent on sentry duty 
to the east of the road by Sorrel. 

He soon saw the rangers, and he soon understood that they were 
surrounding the spot with every indication that the quarry was 
concealed there. 

“ i shall try and capture this flyaway girl myself,” he resolved, 
entering the shadows of the trees below the cordon of rangers. “ I 
would like to have another talk with the defiant piece before I let 
her fall completely into the hands of those who are after her as a 
Yankee spy. Bah ! there is no sense in some of these girls. She 
must be made to realize that her very life is in the hollow of my 
hand.” 

As careful to conceal his presence from the mounted men as was 
tb© girl herself, he stole forward through the dense place toward 


38 


OLD FUSEE. 


the point which seemed to be the principal point of interest to 
the watchers. 

The pistol shots he had heard ; and he mumbled under his enor- 
mous mustache, as he cautiously advanced : 

“I think it will be wise to be guarded. I heard shots. I heard 
also a scream very like the scream of a wounded man. ’Sflames ! 
the girl may be quick and dangerous one with that pistol she 
shoved into my face when 1 stood in her way in the parlor.” 

A short distance further, and he knew that he must be at about 
the spot where the rangers had entered and been driven out. 

This confirmed presently by his half stumbling over a prone and 
limp form on the ground. 

One of the rangers who had fallen under the fire of the girl and 
the man she had met there. 

It was a dead form, though still warm. 

Close to this, another. 

Neither Sorrel nor his men had paused to think of removing 
their fallen comrades when they retreated so precipitately from 
the hot and unexpected reception which had greeted them. 

And the captain made another discovery. 

At the moment he came stealthily upon this half path, half tan- 
gle in the undergrowth, he was aware of some one moving skulk- 
ingly away by an opposite course than that by which he had ap- 
proached. 

“ The girl,” he ventured to guess, in an audible mutter. 

In this surmise he was right. And carefully as she moved, and 
though the hoofs of the horse were muffled, Captain Striker was 
able to follow, by the faint and at times wholly imperceptible 
sounds, the movements of the person ahead of him. 

His horse he had made fast to a sapling upon first entering the 
timber. Now he worked his way forward, pausing anon to make 
sure that he was not thrown off the scent. 

With all his care, he lost the trail. 

It was the revolver shot of the girl, when she made that dash for 
liberty at the time of being confronted by the hidden ranger; that 
guided him again to the course he should have taken; but he had 
wandered considerably astray, and by the time he reached the 
scene of the encounter, the fusilade of the gallaut rescuer, Carlton, 
had transpired, the rangers were in retreat, and he barely caught 
a glimpse of the female rider and the man at her side, as the two 
made slowly off through the now thinning trees. 

“Only one man,” he muttered. “I think I can capture her. 
’Sflames ! I am not afraid of one man. Let me get ahead of them, 
and let me get the drop on them, and I have no doubt I shall be 
able to bring them to terms.” 

With this view, he started rapidly, though silently, by a round- 
about path well known to him in that place, and ere long he had 


OLD FtTSEE. 30 

brought about the stoppage and subsequent combat with Carlton 
which we have related. 

“ I hope I have not killed him,” he repeated, as he knelt by the 
Union major’s side and placed one of his broad palms over the 
fallen man’s heart. “ I prefer to take him alive, a prisoner. Ho! 
but I will take him first to the house of old James Bartholemew, 
and I will say to him : ‘Behold ! here is the fellow with whom 
your ward, the dashing Miss Belle, is leagued, to give information 
to the infernal Yankees. Yes, I will do that first ; and after that I 
will take him to headquarters — for no doubt I shall find something 
on his person to confirm the fact that he, as well as she, is a spy. 
’Sflames ! spy or not, I shall see to it that he never gets back to his 
detestable Union lines again, be sure of that. Now come, it will 
be no child’s task to carry the carrion back to where I left my 
horse.” 

But it was his intention to carry the major back to the animal 
and transport him into a captivity that meant death ; and with a 
strained grunt, he first lifted the limp figure, then swung it over 
his shoulder like a sack. 

Alive, though as helpless as a dead man, Frank Carlton was be- 
ing borne to his doom. 

No Federal could hope for any mercy at the hands of fierce Cap- 
tain Striker, with his fierce mustache and soul afire in hate for any- 
thing or everybody who wore the blue. 

So intent was he with his captive that he wholly forgot his brace 
of pistols— knocked from his grasp, we have said, by a smart blow 
from Carlton. They were left laying there in the little open, their 
rich mounting gleaming dully amid the grass. 

When starting to join the pursuit, he had not stopped to remove 
the halter from the horse — a patent rope halter that now served 
him admirably. 

For when he reached the tethered animal, he removed the hal- 
ter, and with a sharp knife, proceeded to cut it apart until he had 
formed pieces sufficient to bind the young major's arms behind his 
back and his lower limbs at the ankles securely. 

“ There!” he exclaimed, with savage satisfaction. “ I think the 
Yank is now on a fair road to his death — curse him ! I never jsnew 
a knot of mine to be broken by a prisoner; and I have made many 
on those who would not remain quiet until bound. You may 
squirm as lively as you please when you come to life again— and 
he will come to life again,” as he raised the prisoner over the sad- 
dle front, ‘‘for I felt his heart beat while he lay on the ground. 
Now, then, to show James Bartholemew the bluecouted devil 
through whom Miss Belle is communicating with the Yankee 
army !” 

Gaining the saddle behind his captive, he gathered up the reins 
and urged the horse forward at a brisk walk. 

The rangers had entirely left the scene of their pursuit and 


40 OLD EUSEE. 

defeat. His course back to the house of James Bartholemew was 
a lonely one. 

Within a few minutes after Captain Striker had departed from 
the spot where he had captured Frank Carlton, a figure came 
noiselessly from the bushes and ran forward. 

It was Belle Fusor. 

True to her word, she had not deserted the gallant major who so 
opportunely rescued her from the rangers. 

Not far did she go before checking her horse and dismounting. 
Searching about, she, fortunately, was not long in finding a stout 
stick which would make a formidable club. 

With this in hand, she climbed up the bank and retraced her 
course toward where she had left her rescuer menaced by the re- 
volvers of their common foe. 

The time lost in searching for the club, however, had sufficed for 
Striker to overcome and carry off the major. 

But the brave girl, as she emerged upon the spot, determined to 
lend every assistance in her power, caught sight of something in- 
stantly which gave her hear t a thrill of delight. 

There in the grass, almost at her feet, were the polished re- 
volvers ! 

Scarcely able to repress alow cry at the discovery, she grasped 
them up, and at full speed hastened back to her horse. 

Once more armed, and intent upon standing bravely by the man 
to whom she owed her present liberty, she was presently gallop- 
ing in hot pursuit of the Confederate captain ; and muffled as 
were the hoofs of the horse, and soft as was the sod she tra- 
versed, Striker was unapprised, by sound, of any one being on his 
track. 

CHAPTER XII. 

A DOOMED PRISONER. 

Here again fate seemed to be against the young major. 

At last the captain heard the thud of deadened hoofs in his rear, 
and though not dreaming that it could be the dashing female rider 
whom he stoutly believed to be Belle Bartholomew— who had 
taken the bold leap over the embankment, he turned slightly to 
the left, toward Sharpsburg, intending to aroid whoever it might 
be, and reach the house of Bartholomew from the direction of his 
own regiment, part of which was then thrown across the Shep- 
herdstown road. 

And because of this prompt movement, and the silence with 
which he moved his horse at a walk, on the soft soil at the side of 
the road, Belle Fusor was deceived and dashed on without discov- 
ering the ruse. 

As he neared the dwelling, Captain Striker saw what had not 
been in the vicinity— the immediate vicinity— when he had left 
there. 


OLD FUSEE. 


41 


South of the Shepherdstown road, and far westward, were the 
fires of the Confederate forces who were coming in, the remainder 
of them from Harper’s Ferry. 

Thousands of men, ready in arms were there, encompassing the 
surrounding of Bartholomew’s house. 

Within the house of the fiery secessionist were a number of offi- 
cers partaking of the old gentleman’s hospitality. 

“It will hardly suit my plans,” he muttered, bitinghis mustache, 
as he paused without to gaze upon the feast of wine and other re- 
freshments progressing within. “It will hardly suit my pie us in 
regard to this Yank and Miss Belle, to take my captive right in 
among them. I must get the old man to himself and have him 
place this prisoner in a strong room, while I have another little in- 
terview with him and Miss Belle.” 

Dismounting and swinging his still insensible burden over one 
shoulder, he made his way to a side entrance that opened upon a 
sort of veranda. 

James Bartholemew appeared to be making merry with his gray 
uniformed company, and seemed to have banished the uneasiness, 
even terror, occasioned by the note we have seen him receive 
shortly before— he was suddenly surprised to see Captain Striker 
stalk unceremoniously in among them. 

To one or two of the assembled Confederates, Striker was known, 
and his appearance was greeted cordially. 

With a politeness that was part of his character when in such 
surroundings— very unlike his even coarse way when in such scenes 
as those in the woods shortly previous— he took time to partake of 
a glass of wine and exchange a few words of pleasantry with his 
brothers in arms. 

Bartholemew observed the captain’s piercing black eyes on him 
siugularly, that there was a dangerous smile under the heavy mus- 
tache betokening a pending something more than usually sinister. 

“I am afraid of Captain Striker,” half groaned the old gentle- 
man, inwardly. “ He has something to say to me— I can plainly 
see that. What is it? What has he come back here for ?” 

His mental questioning was soon to be answered. 

Presently, at a sign from Striker, which for some reason he did 
not care to disregard, he passed out to the veranda, and was ex- 
peditiously joined by the captain. 

“Heh!” he exclaimed. “What’s this? What have you here, 
captain?” as the first thing his glance rested on, laying straight 
and motionless, was the securely bound form of Carlton. 

“A Yankee— and a spy. I had the devilish good luck to capture 
him.” 

“ A spy ! String him up!” said the old gentleman, at once. 

“Oh, no, not just yet. But, ’sflames! we’ll do that soon 

enough, never fear. For the present I have an object in holding 
him prisoner.” t 


42 


OLD FUSEE. 


“ An object ? What kind of an object ?” 

“ I will explain anon. Now, friend Bartholemew, you have a 
strong cellar, I think.” 

‘‘Cellar? Yes. What about the cellar ?” 

“We will put the Yank in the cellar until I am ready to carry 
him to headquarters.” 

“ Oh, I see; you want to stop awhile and have a good time with 
the officers who have honored me by ” 

“ No matter. Let us get him into the cellar.” 

“ Come, then. As you say, it is a very strong cellar. No danger 
of his getting out, my dear captain.” 

As he led the way, and Striker, again shouldering Carlton, whose 
insensibility had remained so deep as to seem like death itself, fol- 
lowed after him, Bartholemew was thinking: 

“Zounds! I believe this captain with a fierce mustache has 
given up his idea— a deucedly dangerous idea for me — that Belle 
has been doing anything like what he supposed she had. I am 
glad enough of it— very glad.” 

There were two cellars under the great stone house. In one was 
the store of wine for which James Bartholemew’s hospitality was 
famous, whenever a Confederate crossed the threshold ; for, though 
close to meanness with the world in general, the boys in gray were 
ever an exception to this trait. 

In the other cellar were only heaps of storage, and a small open- 
ing, with a stout bar of iron across, was the only mode of even 
ventilating the place. 

Into this latter Carlton was carried, and, still bound, dumped 
roughly on a pile of straw at one side. 

There they left him, unconscious, tightly confined and helpless 
in the improvised bonds, in a darkness blacker than the darkest 
midnight of earth. 

An iron key was turned in the massive lock, and left on the out- 
side. 

Bartholemew had no fear of any one daring to open the cellar 
without being expressly sent to do so by his order. 

“There, my dear captain, he is safe enough. But I still think it 
would be better to hang or shoot him without any such delay. 
You know very well I would like to hang and shoot all the ac- 
cursed horde who wear the blue.” 

“Yes, I know,” returned the captaiu, briefly, as they reascended 
to the merry company in the parlor. 

Striker’s brisk ride, and the combat with Carlton had given him 
a keen appetite for some of the rare wine which he knew Bar- 
tholemew kept. He could bide his time before beginning to work 
again his plan for the compulsory marriage of Belle with him- 
self. 

The glasses clinked and the red wine flowed in the midst of the 
gay officers who sat and talked in the parlor. 


OLD FtTSEE. 43 

Captain Striker was one of those who could become a prime 
favorite in such an assemblage. 

And while Bartholemew and his guests at this late hour kept up 
the sociable scene, another scene was transpiring in Belle’s bed- 
room, where the young girl was yet awake and had been long 
puzzling herself for some explanation of the mysterious note 
which had accidentally come into her possession. 

Belle sat on a high ottoman cushion; before her was Topsy. 

The little negro was on her knees, with black hands clasped, and 
her eyes were rolling up and around, while her jaw dropped as if 
in mingled awe and fright. 

“What is this you say, Topsy, a man in the cellar?” 

“ Yes, indeedy, Miss Belle, a man dar. De massa cap’n brung 
him to de house, too; I seed him. Den Massa James he done go wi’ 
de cap’n an’ dey’s flung him down de cellar whar de rubbishes is.” 

“ You talk as if it was a dead man, Topsy.” 

“ Fo’ de Lord ! he ain’t no more ’n a dead man, Miss Belle, ’cause 
he hung on de shoulger of de cap’n like a meal sack. An’ dey’s 
got him tied all up wi’ ropes, shuah dey has.” 

“This is strange. Who can it be?” 

“ Dunno, Miss Belle; but de man’s coat war tored open, an’ I 
seen sojer clo’s an’ de brass butt’ns. Blue clo’s dey war, an’ 
mighty shiny.” 

“ A prisoner,” she murmured to herself. “Who can Captain 
Striker have captured? Heavens! can it be? but, no! Frank 
must be far away and safe by this time. He promised me he 
would not loiter in the vicinity a minute; and y6t ” 

She advanced quickly to the table and took up the lamp. 

“ Stay here, Topsy, until I come back.” 

“Yes, Miss Belle. An’ oh, Miss Belle, de key am indedo’. I 
seed ’em leab it dar.” 

For she instantly divined that her young mistress had resolved 
to see who it was that had been confined in the cellar. 

By a rear entrance Belle descended without being seen by those 
who, under the influence of the wine, were fast becoming a com- 
pany of revelers. 

Noiseless and swift she went down to the damp cellar passages, 
beyond which were the cemented and dry compartments. 

“ The cellar where the rubbish is,” she uttered, as she waved the 
light ahead. 

She soon turned the key in its lock, and again the lamp was raised 
forward as her glance roamed over the piles of odds and ends that 
were accumulated there. 

Then she saw the recumbent figure of the prisoner. 

Saw, too, the undercoat of blue revealed by the open breast of 
the disguising coat of gray. 

Saw, too, a face that brought a throb to her heart and nigh 
wrung a cry from her lips. 


44 


OLD FUSEE. 


For the rays of the lamp exposed to her startled gaze the fea- 
tures of Frank Carlton, her lover 


CHAPTER XIII. 

A DECISION FOR FLIGHT. 

Controlling the emotion she felt at thus finding the man she 
loved in such a plight, Belle set down the lamp and hastened to his 
side. 

Kneeling, she raised his head in her arms, and tenderly brushed 
back his chestnut locks from the bloody face. 

It was at this juncture that life reasserted itself in the young ma- 
jor’s frame. 

He opened his eyes with a deep sigh, and the vision that greeted 
his unsteady gaze was all the more calculated to increase his be- 
wilderment. 

“Belle! is it truly you?” at last he articulated, while she had 
seemed to wait breathlessly for this sign of recognition. 

“ Oh, Frank, how came you here?” 

He smiled in a way that was ghastly in the blood that stained his 
face. 

“ I did not come, Belle ; I was brought, and I had no word 
in it. Do you not see that I am a fast and helpless prisoner ?” 

In the half-suppressed excitement of the discovery, she had not 
observed the bonds on his limbs, or that his hands were secured 
behind him. 

In a trice her nimble 'fingers were at work, and strong though 
the knots that Captain Striker had tied, it was not long before 
Carlton felt the blood circulating through his veins once more in 
freedom. 

“ God bless you, Belle, darling ! But where am I? To what sort 
of place has he brought me ?” 

“ Of whom do you speak?” 

“The Johnny who captured me. A tall fellow wearing an 
officer’s uniform. And a man with some muscle, I must confess. 
We fought in almost darkness; but I could see that he was rather 
a handsome reb with an enormous mustache.” 

“ Ah !” she uttered, thoughtfully. “ Then it was Captain Striker. 
But, dear Frank, you must make haste to fly from here. If you 
were made prisoner by the man I think pou were, you are in the 
hands of one who not only is a merciless wretch but who would 
have you shot twice over if he knew how dear you are to me. Are 
you strong enough to make the attempt ? There are horses in the 
stable. Uncle Jim, with a considerable company, is engaged in the 
parlor. Do not lose a moment.” 

He rose to his feet and clasped the beautiful girl in his arms af- 
fectionately. 

“ Yes, Belle, strong and anxious, you may be sure. Ah ! how I 
wish 1 could take you with me.” 


OLD FU9EE. 


45 


A sudden thought came into the brain of the girl. 

The man who was her guardian had, but a few hours earlier, 
threatened to disown her and drive her from his house because she 
dared to announce her unfaltering love for this very man. Why 
not fly with him now, since she had made him her choice before all 
other men? 

But she said, hesitatingly : 

“ I am half tempted to do so, Frank ” 

“ Half tempted, you say,” and he held her tighter in his passion- 
ate embrace. 

In a brief way she informed her lover of what had transpired 
between James Bartholomew and herself in the parlor. 

“ Then come with me, and leave him forever!” he exclaimed, 
impetuously. 

“ Do you realize what you are advising, Frank ?” 

“Fully. You cannot doubt that my love will remain forever 
true, Belle, darling?” 

“ Not that, Frank. But have you forgotten what manner of 
girl it is you bid to follow you and be your companion through 
life ? Remember, I have not one relation in the world. Even the 
history of who I am or may be, Uncle Jim seems to have kept 
clouded in mystery. I came to him but a waif. I have been 
taught, and I may not have a right to an honest man’s whole pure 
love. Besides, have I not always been a bitter rebel,” with a 
smile, “ and could you reconcile yourself to living with one who, 
though loving you dearly, could never believe that the cause for 
which you wear that suit of blue is a just one ” 

He interrupted her with a playful tenderness, placing one hand 
gently over the rich lips upturned to his. 

“ Hush ! It is unkind for you to talk so. I will be true to you, 
darling, as long as life is in me. As to your Southern preference 
— pshaw ! we need never think or talk of those matters, and our 
days will be only filled with happiness. Come, you say you are 
half tempted. Let me make it whole. Go with me, be my own 
wife; and I will send you to some safe little nook in the North 
where I can join you when the war is over, God willing, and de- 
vote myself to you as long as we both shall live !” 

“ I will follow you, Frank,” she decided, compressing her red 
lips firmly. 

And she added : 

“ Wait. 1 shall not go empty handed. Are you armed ?” 

“No.” 

“That will never do. We must be prepared for any danger. 
There are arms in the house. Oh, Frank ” 

“ What, dearest?” 

“ You are sure, quite sure, that you know the solemnity, to me, 
of this step ?” 

“My own dear Belle, believe in me; have faith in me.” 


48 


OLD FUSEE. 


He drew her again and again to his breast, kissing the willing 
lips that met his caresses. 

“ Let me lead you from here,” she said, hurriedly. ‘‘I can find 
a way out without our being seen. Go to the stables. Wait for 
me there, and while waiting, saddle two horses. I will not be 
long.” 

Having decided upon flight, the character of the girl showed 
itself by the promptness with which she planned an occupation 
for her lover while she should hasten back to her room to procure 
certain articles she meant to take with her. 

Successfully she led the way to a rear door, and bidding him 
hasten with his task, she reascended the stairs. 

Rapidly gathering together a few necessaries for toilet purposes, 
and snatching the most valuable of her jewelry from its caskets, 
she thrust them into a small satchel in a disordered way, then tying 
her jaunty riding hat above her glorious tresses, she turned to 
Topsy, who had looked on these mysterious preparations with as- 
tonishment. 

“Listen to me, Topsy.” 

“Yes, Miss Belle.” 

“ If any one should ask you where I have gone, say that you do 
not know ” 

“No more I doesn’t.” 

“ Say that you have not even seen me since I said to you, as I 
now say: Clear out! Go to bed, Topsy. And here’s a bright 
gold dollar for you to remember me by, if I should not come 
back.” 

As the faithful little negress would have begun to sob at the 
hint of her young mistress’ prolonged absence. 

“ Go, now, Topsy— go. And remember— silence regarding me.” 

After Topsy’s departure, Belle sought a room where there were 
a number of small arms kept, and selecting the best of several re- 
volvers with a supply of cartridges, she hastened down to join 
Carlton at the stable. 

“Good-by, Uncle Jim,” she murmured, as she went. “You 
have been kind, indeed, to me in many ways; but you said to- 
night that I was disgracing you, and you shall not have the op- 
portunity to drive me from your house, as you have threatened. 
Good-by old home, where I have grown from babyhood !” and a 
tear, one in each dimming eye, started from the lid and coursed, 
with all her effort to repress it, down her fair cheek. 

Softly opening the same door by which she had given Carlton 
egress, she stole forth toward the stables. 

As she drew near, she was surprised to see the form she knew 
was her lover’s standing close by another form— the last a fe- 
male. 

The horses were in readiness. 

Still inside the house sounded the voices of the revelers, growing 


OLD FUSEE. 47 

louder each moment under the stimulating effect of the wiue from 
Bartholemew’s cellar. 

Everything seemed propitious for the flight. 

“Who is this?” she asked, with some misgiving, and indicating 
the second female who stood beside her lover. 

And in the next breath : 

“ Ah, we have met before.” 

“Yes,” answered Belle Fusor. “ And to you I owe the fact of 
my escape from the rangers when they had nearly caught me 
here. I am still using the horse you so generously gave me. But 
we must not stop to talk here. Major Carlton informs me that 
you are to accompany him. We have a hard ride ahead of us, for 
I am sure that by this time the Confederate general, Stuart, must 
have reached his fighting position on the left wing of the army. 
There is cavalry there, and our course is through danger. Come, 
let us mount and be off ! ” 

The three were soon in their saddles. 

Belle Bartholemew could not help feeling a degree of inexplica- 
ble dislike for this young girl, who seemed to be so familiar with 
her lover, and who she saw, as she had not seen at their first meet- 
ing at the stables, when she had given the fugitive her own valu- 
able horse to aid her escape from the rangers, was as beautiful as 
herself. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

CARLTON’S ESCAPE. 

Not so easily were the trio to escape. 

At the instant they gave their horses the rein, heading to the 
north and west, the sharp crack of a revolver rung on the night 
air, and a bullet whistled between Belle Bartholemew and her 
lover. 

“ Whew ! pretty close, I call that!” exclaimed the young major. 

“ On! Faster!” urged Belle Fusor. 

“ H — o! Halt, there !” roared a familiar voice. 

The voice of Captain Striker. 

Bang ! came another shot, accompanied by the single bullet, and 
the voice exclaimed : 

“Halt! you infernal Yanks!” harshly snarled the voice of the 
ranger captain, Sorrel. 

These two captains— Sorrel having joined the company in Bar- 
tholemew’s parlor a very few minutes after the latter gentleman 
and Striker returned from having deposited the prisoner in the 
cellar— had excused themselves for a few moments to retire to the 
outside, at a wink from Striker, for a consultation regarding Belle 
Bartholemew. 

Striker did not want the girl captured, and at once taken to 
camp for trial, and, possibly, condemnation. 


48 


OLD FUSEE. 


He loved the girl, with such love as a mail of his caliber is capa- 
ble of conceiving for a beautiful woman, and wished to enlist the 
co-operation of Sorrel in compelling her through fear to become 
his bride. 

To capture and hold her, with the prospect of death in store for 
her, was the object; and he well knew that Sorrel was precisely 
the man to assist in a plot of that character. 

But before a word to the point could pass, and as the evil pair 
emerged into the night and walked around to the rear of the 
house, they saw the fugitives in the act of mounting and making 
off. 

At the sight, Striker seemed to understand exactly what was 
transpiring, for he cried, sharply, to his companion: 

“Look! ’Sflames! The prisoner I told you I had in old Bar- 
tholomew's cellar has escaped ! That cursed girl lias had a hand in 
it! Fire on them 1 That is she with them now !— two girls ! Fire! 
I am unarmed. Wing them ! Fire!’’ 

The Southern ranger always was, and is to-day, noted for the 
quickness with which he can draw and discharge a revolver. 

Even after Striker had uttered the last word— following it with 
the command to the fugitives to stop— Sorrel had pulled trigger 
and sent a bullet humming close to the ears of the fleeing party. 

And as did Striker, so halloed he : 

“Halt! — you infernal Yanks!” 

But on, like the wind, swept Carlton and the two girls. 

“ I’ve a notion to send back a shot as a oompliment,” said the 
major, half turning in his saddle. 

“No,” objected Belle Fusor. “Save every bullet. We may 
have more pressing need of them than this. But they will be soon 
in pursuit of us; so make the horses do their best. On !” 

Belle Bartholemew had not spoken since they began to goad the 
animals to their utmost speed. 

Deeper within the bosom of the Southern girl grew the dislike tor 
this one whom she deemed to be too familiar with the man who 
was her plighted lover. 

There had not been, was not now, any time for explauations of 
how the two had become acquainted. 

In silence they continued that hard dash onward. 

And it was not long before they could hear the clatter of many 
hoofs that told of a determined chase after them. 

Extra good horses must the pursuers have to overhaul the trio. 
But there were cunning brains behind the lovers and the beauti- 
ful spy. 

Both Sorrel and Striker knew that the corps intended to be 
massed on the left of Lee’s army must be at or near their objective 
point by this time. 

The pursued, if they held to the course that had already been 
gone over in a wild chase that night, would assuredly piunge into 


OLD FUSEE. 49 

the midst of the cavalry at the junction of the sunken roads near 
the branch. 

“Divide,” suggested Sorrel. “They cannot escape us except by 
crossing the Potomac. Blast them ! I think if we do not overhaul 
them they will tumble into the hands of Stuart.” 

“ A good idea,” agreed Striker. 

The ranger captain drew back on his rein and shouted to the 
mixed horsemen who had promptly followed the two officers at 
their call— some men who had come in attendance upon the offi- 
cers who sought the hospitality of Bartholemew, and some of the 
officers themselves, whose steeds were held in waiting for them by 
the stone fence at the west of the dwelling. 

Fully a score made up the pursuing party, and a few of these did 
not as yet know exactly what it was they were after. 

Dividing, half of these continued at a s^ if t pace on the course 
started upon, the remainder, led by Captain Striker, swerved ob- 
tusely to the left toward the river. 

Unaware of the maneuver of their enemies, Belle Fusor had 
said : 

“ Turn slightly here — turn. I told you the Confederate cavalry 
was moving to the extreme leftof the army, and behind it will be 
placed a battery. If we hold to this route we shall surely be taken 
prisoners. Follow; this way.” 

And ds they obeyed, they took a course both parallel and for- 
ward with those who were performing the same thing under 
Striker’s command. 

Then for a distance along the canal on went the fugitives, their 
horses breathing hard, and Diamond, Belle Bartholomew’s gallant 
steed, beginning to falter after so much exertion as he had been 
put through since the hour when still sweating from the ride his 
mistress had taken on him, he had been so generously given to a 
stranger of her own sex to escape the persistent chase of Sorrel’s 
rangers. 

“ We will have to make a halt,” said the spy. 

“ Halt now!” exclaimed both Belle and Carlion in a breath. 

“ That, or you two must leave me.” 

“ We will never do that,” declared the major. 

“Then be guided by me. I know of a hiding place in these 
woody hills; in it we may remain safely until the battle com- 
mences, and we know that those who are in puisuit of us would 
not dare be absent from their posts at the hour of conflict for the 
mere reason of hunting down two women aud a man. Slacken 
your gait,” she ad vised, as they entered a belt of woodland and 
wound along near the river that they could hear now not far 
ahead. 

“ But what is the object?” Carlton asked. 

“ My horse is flagging. Another mile and he will drop.” 


50 


OLD FUSEE. 


“Lead us where you will, then. We assuredly will not desert 
you. Do you not agree with me, Belle?” to his betrothed. 

“Yes,” she replied, rather shortly. 

Belle Fusor, the spy, had not scouted in that section without 
learning something more than the movements of the enemy, as her 
actions presently proved. 

Suddenly she came to a stop before a high embankment over 
which grew and hung a dense mass of tangled growth, which 
seemed about to fall upon them as they paused there. 

Dismounting, she unhesitatingly led her horse directly into the 
black depth, the others following. 

The bauk formed an arch, well screened. 

There was no more than this, for when the major, at her com- 
mand, lighted his fuse, they saw a fissure making into what ap- 
peared to be the solid earth at first, a huge crack, as it were, 
which did not quite extend to the surface above. 

“Your handkerchiefs— quick,” she said. 

Tearing the handkerchiefs into halves, she scraped leafy rubbish 
into each half, twisting the pieces into soft balls. 

The others watched her, by the dim light of the fuse, in silent 
wonderment. 

Her object was soon explained. • 

When she had made six small and soft balls, she placed a ball 
firmly in each ear of each horse. 

“There,” when this was accomplished with great dexterity. 
“The beasts won’t hear the other horses, and if we can prevent 
their scenting them, there will be no danger of a whinny. I think 
I can provide against that, too.” 

From her pocket she produced a vial, pouring from it a peculiar 
odored fluid on her hand. Then she rubbed and smoothed the 
nozzle of each horse with the perfumed hand. 

More than once had she saved herself from discovery by her foes 
by a similar provision. 

Just as [soon as the operation was completed, the horses made 
fast to roots in the bank, and the beautiful spy had told her com- 
panions to follow her into the fissure, they heard the noise of hoofs 
and voices beyond their concealment. 

Striker and his followers were beating about the small patch of 
woods where he knew the escaped prisoner and the two girls had 
certainly entered. 

Like hewn statues the fugitives stood and listened in the impene- 
trable darkness. 


CHAPTER XY. 

THE ANTIETAM. 

The theory advanced by Belle Fusor, that the pursuers would 
have to abandon the search, to be on hand when their regiments 
were called for action in the morning, was correct. 


OLD FUSEE. 


51 

Through the long remainder of the night they could hear Strik- 
er’s men hunting, first, dangerously close and then far from the 
hiding-place, like a pack of boys at a game of “ pot and blue beans,” 
or worse, like hungry hounds that might do more than merely 
devour. 

But the night did pass without discovery, and with the first of 
dawn they heard the boom of the cannon that told of murderous 
shots. 

Hungry, wearied by their wakefulness and watchfulness for so 
many hours, the words of Belle Fusor were welcome when she 
said : 

“ I think now we may venture. Come; but we must take a long 
route around, as you will find,” 

Once more in the saddle, they pushed onward, ascending the 
course of the Potomac as best they could through ways that, per- 
haps, no horsemen had ever gone over before. 

As they ascended anon on some higher eminence, far off to the 
eastward, they could see the smoke rolling up as from a battle- 
field already beginning to stain with the blood of heroes, and a 
strangely tingling enthusiasm pervaded the breasts of all in that 
little party. 

When they had gone a considerable distance, suddenly a cry that 
he could not restrain broke from Major Carlton. 

“Look— look there !” leveling a hand off to the northeast, toward 
the ridges and woods. “ I’d know those banners in a stranger field 
than this. My regiment is there! It is Hooker’s corps!” 

Yes; far away were the moving columns of Hooker advancing 
toward the Confederate left. 

From their point of observation, as they still pressed on, a greater 
part of that vast field was exposed to their view, only interrupted 
by the occasional patches of timber and the poetic crests. 

There were no signs of their pursuers. 

Once Carlton halted to look out over the inspiring panorama, 
where the soldiery of blue and gray were marching, maneuvering; 
and all the while came those distant boomings, the thunders of the 
artillery at their duel on that memorable sixteenth, preceding the 
actual and awful battle. 

“ Oh, to be there!” burst from him. “ See! the corps is drawing 
steadily down upon the rebel lines. The clash must come soon ! I 
must, must get them What will be thought of me, to be absent at 
such a time as this! Forward!” 

Again the horses were urged, cantering at such opportunity as 
was given them in that uncertain path. 

Leaving the trio making their way thus, we turn to the blue 
columns that were coming down from the north. 

Hooker’s corps, with the batteries on his right. 

It was past noon. 

i 


52 


OLD FUSEE. 


The whole Confederate force was now concentrated for the 
struggle around Sharpsburg. 

Hooker was coming down from the direction of Mercersville, 
and Mansfield had been ordered to follow and sustain him. 

To meet the Federals, Hood’s brigades were placed on the Con- 
federate left, with Jackson in reserve. 

Steadily onward marched the blues of Hooker. 

And still the cannon boomed as they had boomed since early 
dawn. 

Through gullies and timber patches came the host of the North ; 
firmly waited the lines of gray. 

Then, when the day was well spent, suddenly sounded the rat- 
tle of muskets and zip— zip of deadly bullets from both sides, an- 
nouncing that the skirmishers under General Meade had struck 
the gray host the first blow in the clearing of the Hagerstown 
road. 

The guns of the Pennsylvania Reserves had opened the battle; 
but Major Carlton was not there, and none knew of his where- 
abouts. 

A rumor was started that he had been killed by a stray shot at 
the time the division passed the stone bridge over the Antietam. 

But dusk was upon the hostile forces. The boys in blue had 
arrived at their fighting ground too late to enter into regular bat- 
tle; and after the skirmish, with Hood still grim and resolute be- 
fore them, they rested on their arms. 

It needed not even an experienced general’s eye to perceive that 
the heaviest part of the conflict was to take place at the point of 
Hooker’s approach. 

Under cover of night Lee sent fresh men to relieve the force of 
Hood. 

When morning dawned again, again the guns volleyed. 

All was action now — it was the never to be forgotten seventeenth 
of September! 

Forward the boys in blue ! 

Stern answered the men of Jackson from the Dunker church. 

The havoc of death had begun in earnest ! 

Mansfield had thrown himself forward. 

The cannon belched their fury. 

The thick smoke rose and rolled in great billows, breaking in 
patches, filled with murderous sounds. 

In the din and carnage another cheer than the battle cry arose. 

A brave form was seen, sword in hand, encouraging his men — 
the gallant Major Carlton ! 

He was in time to prove himself a soldier; and the hearty greet- 
ing of the men, who loved as brave men love a brave officer, 
repaid him for the the terrible gantlet he had run to be with 
them. 

Back and to the right of Mansfield, the thundering batteries. 


OLD FUSEE. 


5 # 

Fiercest, grimiest among the gunners— Old Fusee, with white hair 
and beard streaming bare, and knotty muscles working as only 
their long experience could work. 

By eight o’clock the combatants were almost hand to hand. 

The fronts of Hood and Jackson had not wavered. 

In the heat, the smoke and vortex of death and struggle— hark ! 
the thudding hoofs of cavalry! 

Swooping down upon the extreme right, came the avalanche of 
horses and gleaming sabers. 

Upon the Pennsylvanians fell the brunt of the charge. 

But it found them ready with bristling front. 

Foremost in the lumbering ranks, Carlton saw a form he recog- 
nized— a leader whose face was that of a demon in courage and 
hate. 

The ranger captain, Sorrel ! 

Crash ! came together the assailants, and the ready line of gleam- 
ing bayonets. 

Then pandemonium of sound and scene. 

Men and horses, the blue and the gray, all mixed, all in bloody 
confusion, where sabers struck spitefully, and prodding bayonets 
sought the vitals under the gray. 

Sorrel found himself met by a soldier in major’s uniform, whose 
sword engrossed all his attention. 

“Aha! you wretch!’’ shouted Carlton, whose voice there, it is 
doubtful, could be heard by the man he was trying to run through 
with his sword. “ We are met, Johnny Reb! I have not forgot- 
ten that you were one of those who hunted me like a hound last 
night !” 

But the surging mass of humanity arohnd them, with its deluge 
of blood, swept them apart at the very instant Carlton could have 
driven his weapon through his foe. 

Boom ! — boom ! the lively batteries. 

And streams and waves of fire piercing the billows of smoke! 

Death was mowing mercilessly there. 

On the right— all on the right, this gory tableau of living and 
dying humanity, in flashes of steel, in whistling of gouging slugs; 
louder and louder the roar, the rumble that rose and quaked the 
very vault of heaven ! 

The troops were in ! 

It was The Antietam ! 

Far in the rear of the seething labyrinth of roar and death, 
there was another scene — a scene of agony, shrieks and writhings 
under the horror of ghastly wounds and the surgeons’ knives. 

The hospital of the battlefield ! 

Well was it for those who still survived, still fought in the hail 
of lead at the front, that they dreamed not of the shudderful 
sights under the doming trees, where shot nor thrust of steel could 
not interrupt the unutterable misery of strong men lying in the 


OlD FtTSfifi. 


54 

grasp of stronger hands, to hold them while some shattered limb 
was cut away or yawning wound sewed up by fingers that had no 
time now for tender handling! 

The shrieks, the groans there, were of a kind to freeze the blood 
of some; while others, already used to the pitiful accompaniment 
of war, moved and acted in the suffering aisles of rude reared, 
bench-like tables, with impassive faces and steady nerves. 

A busy day for the surgeons, with their bloody knives and arm- 
fuls of swathes ! 


CHAPTER XVI. 

TWO EVIL, COMRADES. 

Still further in the rear, on an eminence beyond the reach of the 
deadly range, were two female forms, two young girls who looked 
upon the distant carnage with faces pale and a suppressed excite- 
ment within them. 

Our two Belles— Bartholemew and Fusor. 

The transient feeling of jealousy that had entered the heart of 
Belle Bartholemew had passed now; she knew all that had trans- 
prired to bring about the acquaintance between the beautiful spy 
and her lover, and prouder she felt of Carlton when she heard the 
brief recital of how he had so bravely rescued a beset girl from 
the toils of her enemies. 

And both were in a mind of amazement at a discovery that came 
to them when they left the concealment we have seen them in, 
and which, at the time, could not be discussed in the hurry of con- 
tinued flight. 

In face and figure, in gesture, even, there was such a resemblance, 
one to the other, that it would have been difficult for an observer 
to distinguish between them if set apart. More than sisters— twins 
they fairly looked to be. 

But they reasoned mutually that there could not possibly beany 
relationship between them ; it could only be attributed to some 
wonderful freak of nature, they agreed. 

“ Dear Belle,” said the spy, “ought we not to go down there 
among the wounded, to see if we cannot lend some assistance, cool 
same parched lip, or speak a word of comfort to the brave men 
who may never again see those they love so dearly in their far off 
homes ?” 

“The very thought that was in my mind. Yes, we can find 
duties to perform there, I am sure. The surgeons, too, may be 
glad to have a woman’s hand to assist in the horrors of their sad 
tasks.” 

“Come then.” 

And soon after that, the two could be seen moving about in those 
ghastly aisles, their lovely faces pale as those of the doomed 
wounded around them, lovely faces that burst upon the agonized 


OLD FUSEE. 55 

beings like a vision from that other world whose undreamable 
verge they were so soon to tread. 

Girls of nerve and beauty, too, were they ! 

“ God bless you !” greeted them by the side of slabs slippery with 
the gore of those whom nc mortal art could not save. 

And : 

“ God bless you !” was breathed a hundred times from lips whose 
thirst their canteens quenched. 

Ministering angels, these two rarely beautiful girls, palely, quiet- 
ly gliding amid the trying scene, with soft words and substantial 
comfort for the helpless, bleeding fellow men brought back from 
the reverbating maelstrom beyond. 

And still the guns : 

Boom — boom — boom ! 

And still the musket roar, that at time* drowned the volume of 
the cannon as long lines, in simultaneous discharge, volley till the 
heavens shook. 

Bloody — bloody Antietam ! 

The right wing of the Union army was now L black with smoke 
and red with human misery. 

Yet on the gallant blues ! On slowly but resolute, like veterans 
that history immortalized before their time. 

By ten o’clock the second bridge had been carried and Richard- 
son, with thundering batteries quaking the earth and air, mowed 
lanes and furrows in the ranks of Hill. 

The “ center ” was in. 

Fiercer the roar and rage of that slippery field ! 

Then slowly, stubbornly the Confederate lines fell back— slowly, 
with the monuments of Union dead behind each inch they gave. 

Back, back, the front of Hill before the grim heroes of Richard- 
son and French. 

Sedgewick, in the woods to the right, was pressing Jackson gra- 
dually in, step by step. 

Around the Duuker church the dead were heaping. 

Jackson, Early, Hood and Hill had given ground and now were 
abreast in a mighty line that seemed as firm as rock. 

Yet on the boys in blue ! 

Where was the Ninth corps now ? 

Where was Burnside?— he who waited on the Union left to strike 
with vigor at Longstreet’s host of gray. 

Again and again had the corps that lay behind the hights receiv- 
ed the order from McClellan to carry the lower stone bridge and 
assail the Confederate right. 

Hour after hour the great commander waited to hear the guns of 
Burnside, which would have lessened the slaughter on the Union 
right by their divertisement. 

Noon had come and passed ere the hights swarmed with the blue 
lines that passed the last bridge; and then there were fresh divis- 


56 


OLD FUSEE. 


ions just arrived from Harper’s Ferry, which joined the conflict 
and wrested from the tardy Burnside each dear-bought inch he 
had gained. 

For awhile the guns boomed on ; but the tragedy of death had 
ceased on the Union right — the lire was of a straggling kind at in- 
tervals amid the pall of smoke that settled in the woody depths or 
hugged the gory ground with its sulphurous breath. 

The day was spent. 

The terrific battle was past — leaving all its horrors without a vic- 
tory for either side. 

Thousands lay piled in half dozens deep, dead or shrieking; and 
their pitiful cries arose now as an after echo of woe to the roar, the 
rattle and stormy waves of deadly sounds during that frightful 
day. 

Bella ! horrida bella ! 

Watchful were the armies when the cloak of night had fallen. 

None knew what might be yet to come; the grimy faces that 
waited, their owners standing or laying exhausted on the ground, 
were fixed in stern expectancy. 

Strange was the lull, in which the ears of men seemed to detect 
murmurs and mutterings that were like the vibration of the terri- 
ble battle borne on some perpetuating draught afar and farther 
into the distance. 

Ears, deafened by cannon and musketry, still seemed to hear the 
noises of the struggle, and the glances thrown around were at 
times those of men who expected to see fresh belching batteries, 
new bursts of flame from some advancing line of blue or yelling 
front of gray. 

But night was stealing over all ; around the bluffs, the valleys, 
and the shot-torn treetops, the last lingenug rays of daylight were 
hanging. 

Antietam had gone into history. 

In a woody spot to the west of where brave Hooker fell wounded 
during the terrific charges near the Dunker church, a by-scene to 
the conflict of the fading day was progressing. 

Two men in uniforms of gray were there. 

One lay with his head elevated on a gnarly log, his coat open at 
the front, and from his breast a trickling stream of blood that 
could not, would not, be stanched. 

By his side knelt the second, who seemed striving with all the 
skill he possessed to relieve the wounded man, who said, rather 
weakly : • 

“ No use, Sorrel, old comrade— I’m a-goner.” 

“ Curse the infernal Yanks !” gritted the voice of the ranger cap- 
tain, Sorrel. “They have given you your last slug, I do believe. 
They . haven’t whipped us yet, though; so take comfort from 
that.” 


OLD FUSEE. 57 

“ Poor comfort for a dying*man,” said the other, in a tone of 
ghastly humor. 

The man with the great, bleeding hole in his breast was Captain 
Jack Striker. 

“ I have got to go, and I know it,” he continued. “There’s no 
use slobbering and blubbering over it, either. But, before I die, 
Sorrel, old comrade mine, I have something to say to you.” 

Inwardly, Sorrel muttered : 

“ Blast it ! if he has anything to say he had best be quick about 
it, I’m thinking. He’ll be a dead man in fifteen minutes, or I don’t 
know anything about wounds.” 

The ranger captain was no novice, even at this early stage of the 
war. On his body were numerous scars from wounds received 
since he had figured in his first fight at the battle of Rich mountain 
— a ranger from the moment of the infant sound of war in the wild 
regions of Maryland and West Virginia. 

Aloud^he said : 

“ What is it you have to say, old friend ? I am listening.” 

“ I wish,” responded Striker, evidently speaking with consider- 
able difficulty, “I wish to say something in regard to Belle Bar- 
tholomew. ’Sflaine ! the hardest thing to swallow is the knowledge 
that I am to die before I succeeded in making that beautiful witch 
my wife.” 

“ But go on,” urged Sorrel, who was immediately interested by 
this allusion to the lovely girl. 

The ranger had half conceived already the idea that he would 
much like to possess such a girl for his own as Belle Bartholemew 
seemed to be. At the prospect of Jack Striker dying, and this fact 
removing his friend from the position of a rival, the idea in em- 
bryo before was now aroused more forcibly by Striker’s words : 

“ I wish to say something in regard to Belle Bartholemew.” 


CHAPTER XVII. 

A>EATH OF A VILLAINOUS CAPTAIN 

Sorrel saw that his comrade’s minutes were numbered. What- 
ever was to be imparted must be said in a hurry. 

“ Drink some of this,” he insisted, holding a small flask of spirits 
to the dying man’s mouth. 

Striker allowed the liquor to gurgle down his throat with signs 
of considerable relish. 

After the draught, he smacked his lips feebly. 

“That is good,” he commented. 

“ But you have something to say,” persisted Sorre 

“Yes— about this witch of a girl. Belle Bartholemew.’ 

“ Well, what about Belle Bartholemew ? You wish me to take 
gome message to her from you ?” 


58 


OLD FUSEE. 


“’Sflames! no. lama dying man; but I am determined that 
she shall not escape.” 

“Escape? How? What do you mean ?” 

“ If she cannot be my wife, she shall be the wife of the man I select 
for her,” was the rather remarkable speech of Captain Striker, 
and his weakening voice was a hiss, as if even in his last fading 
moments he clung to his amorous passion for the young girl in a 
savage way. 

“ Blast it ! I don’t catch just what you mean, comrade.” 

“ Belle Bartholemew is no kin to old James Bartholomew ” 

“ I know that.” 

“ Ha! but you do not know that the girl is entitled to a snug 
fortune in her own right.” 

“ No,” aspired Sorrel, with hugely increasing interest. 

“ By merest chance I found that out — found that long ago, when 
she, a puling infant came under old Bartholomew's care, he at the 
same time made deposits and investments in the child’s name, 
with himself as trustee.” 

“ By my soul!” ejaculated Sorrel, now all ears. 

“ At the first indication of war— the old rat— he withdrew and 
realized every dollar. It had accumulated, too, in the time it had 
been out. An old lawyer, now dead, from whom I got the secret, 
said that Belle Bartholemew, though he doubted if anybody 
knew it, was at least worth one hundred thousand dollars.” 

“ One hundred thousand dollars!” repeated Sorrel. 

Inwardly, he added : 

“Ho! I think I will make an effort to get hold of that money, if 
ever I can find the girl ” 

And aloud again : 

“ Well, comrade?” 

“ I have ascertained,” went on the dying Confederate, “ that 
Belle Bartholemew is in utter ignorance of the fact that she has a 
rightful claim to such a splendid sum of money. I have been try- 
ing to win first the girl, then I would be able to bring old Bar- 
tholemew to a reckoning; for I am convinced that the deposits 
made long ago, and afterward withdrawn to oblivion in the old 
man’s purse, were monies given to him to be paid to her when 
she should have arrived at a proper age to handle her inherit- 
ance.” 

“ This is a rare secret you are telling me— rare and valuable. Go 
on, comrade.” 

“But, ’sflames! Belle Bartholemew is not to be mine,” burst 
spasmodically from the Confederate captain’s lips, under his mon- 
strous and disordered mustache. 

“So it seems,” assented Sorrel, within his mind; and he said: 
“ Unfortunately, no; for I must be plain in saying that you will 
soon be a dead man, and— and hasten with the balance of this won- 
derful seoret, my loved comrade, if there is any.” 


OLD FUSEE. 


59 


There is hardly any more to the secret. But my object in tell- 
ing you was to bring to your notice an incentive to win the girl, 
by fair means or foul,” and as Striker said this, there was a look 
in his fierce eyes, a tone in his failing voice which revealed a devil- 
ish nature in his heart more than could have been suspected in his 
character so far. 

Devilish, because he knew that Sorrel was a born ruffian, and if 
the ranger captain could win, or capture and force the lovely 
girl to wedlock, it would be a sweet revenge for his loss of her, 
even though he could not realize it in his grave. 

Had there been no incentive, this tale of a hundred thousand 
dollars which by right belonged to Belle Bartholemew, and was 
being withheld from her by sly old James, would have pricked his 
determination to make her his bride. Added to the revelation the 
fact that he was already enamored of her dashing and extraordi- 
nary beauty, he was saying, in the silence of his ruffian brain : 

“ Ho ! Belle Bartholemew shall be mine. A young lady of love- 
liness and wealth is a most desirable possession as a man’s wife. I 
will have her; at least I will have the money, and I shall devote 
myself to hunting her up speedily.” 

Just then a horrible spasm seemed to seize the Confederate cap- 
tain. He writhed as he lay, giving vent to a groan of deep agony, 
then making as if he would have started up, despite his mortal 
wound. 

“ Lay still,” ordered Sorrel, sharply. “ You’ll hasten your death 
if you try any such foolishness as that.” 

“ I am burning up. Drink ! Give me drink !” 

“ I’ve no water ; but here’s the flask. Drink, and be quiet.” 

Again he held the liquor to Striker’s mouth, while he thought : 

“ He is going fast. A few minutes more and I will have seen the 
last of Jack Striker. A brave fellow he has been, anyhow. The 
bullets of the infernal Yanks seem to pick out just such brave 
men as Captain Jack Striker. Ho ! I have had many a close shave 
myself to-day.” 

The relief afforded by the draught of liquor was only of short 
duration. 

A few seoonds later there came another, a worse, spasm over the 
dying frame. 

‘‘Belle — Belle Bartholemew!” gasped Striker. “Find her. 
Make her your wife ! It will be sweet vengeance for me.” 

While the words seemed yet to grind out from under his great 
mustache, his form stiffening in the final throe. 

The next instant Sorrel knew that he was holding up the frame 
of a dead man. 

“ Vengeance, he says,” repeated the ranger, in Striker’s words. 
“Bah! what is vengeance to a man dead and his bones picked, 
perhaps, by carrion birds. I am glad he did not die before telling 
me this little secret about Belle Bartholemew. Yes; good, now. 


60 


OLD FUSEE. 


If I can only find the girl. A lovely girl, and plenty of money. 
Ho ! I think I see a gay life ahead. For if I can but find her, for- 
sooth. I shall make her marry me or— or wish she had, that’s all ! 
I would like to bury you, comrade mine, but I have nothing to dig 
a grave with. Besides, I think I had better be getting out of this 
locality; the Yanks are prowling round. Who knows but that 
even now, while I have been listening to this secret of Belle Bar- 
tholomew and easing the last moments of Captain Jack Striker, I 
have been surrounded, and any minute may see me in the ’cursed 
hands of the Yanks, a captive.” 

His own low spoken thoughts were prophetic. 

‘‘Right you are, Johnny Reb,” broke forth a voice not a dozen 
feet away. 

And Sorrel saw advancing upon him in the gloom three men 
whose garb he could dimly discern, were of the blue he hated. 

Some of those stragglers who had reduced the fighting force of 
General Hooker by nearly one-half, and would have brought utter 
defeat upon him had it not been for the timely arrival of brave 
Mansfield, then mortally wounded, on the field of battle at the 
right. 

Stragglers, and of that vulturous kind who are cowards singly, 
but bold by numbers. 

Never was there an army yet without its skulking cowards. 

Coming accidentally upon the dying Confederate and the one 
who was administering to him, even then they had paused to con- 
sider the advisability of attacking the mau in gray, whose outline 
showed him to be one of those rangers whose reputation for des- 
perate fighting qualities was well known to the boys in blue. 

But their number ga\e them courage. They were three to one. 
Their bayonets were at their sides ; since the lull of battle, each 
had procured from some dead body a revolver. 

With bayonets and revolvers drawn they advanced upon the 
solitary ranger. 

“ Give it up, Johnny ; we’ve got you,” said one. 

“Yes; back down, old graycoat!” added another. 

“ Surrender, or we’ll blow the top of your rebel head off,” chim- 
ed the third. 

From three different points they came toward Sorrel, their 
weapons leveled at his head, and the bayonets held in readiness for 
stabbing him. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

SI SORREL AFTER ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS. 

The quick eye of the ranger saw that, notwithstanding they out- 
numbered him, for some cause they were not altogether free from 
fear of him. 

Ilis eyes kindled as they took ih the trio 


OLD FUSEE. 


61 


Took them in at a single glance ; and then something happened 
that was an astonisher to the party who would have made him 
prisoner. 

“ Surrender !” had scarcely left thelipsof the third man when 

Quick as a pass of lightning the ranger captain’s revolvers were 
in his hands and thrust forward. 

Bang, bang! barked the weapons. 

Then his arms began a vertical and rapid see-saw motion, the 
barrels continuing to discharge right and left. 

Bang, bang, bang ! 

A fair marksman was Sorrel ; but under the circumstances, men- 
aced by the weapons of the others, the snap shots he sent into the 
midst of his foes were hurried and without the effect they might 
otherwise have had. 

As it was, one of the stragglers went down with a bullet in his 
brain, and both the others uttered a yell of pain as the thudding 
lead entered their bodies with more or less precision. 

The unexpected and telling resistance was enough. 

The two survivors, bleeding and cursing, turned and ran ignomi- 
nously. 

But Sorrel realized that the shots would soon bring others to the 
spot. 

Thrusting back his revolvers into his belt, he too turned and ran 
stumbling through the bushes. 

“By my life!” he interjected, as he ran, “ I think those louts 
will conclude I was the wrong man for their money. Three men! 
Bah ! it would take more than three men to capture Si Sorrel. Yes, 
more than three — more than a dozen, since I am determined to 
survive everything now, and make the beautiful Belle Bartholo- 
mew mine.” 

On he stumbled. 

When he had crossed the ridge on which were the woods where 
lay the dead body of Striker, and as he had entered another strip 
of trees, he suddenly, and almost with exposure to himself, came 
upon something that caused him to halt abruptly and shrink 
back within the dense shade. 

At the border of the small openiug he was just about to emerge . 
upon, he discovered two figures standing near. 

A man and a female. 

The latter was speaking. 

“ But, you dear Old Fusee , had we not better postpone this visit 
until we are less liable to be captured by the Confederates who 
still hold Sharpsburg and are thick, I am sure, at the house of 
James Bartholomew ?” 

“No,” said the man’s voice — the voice of the old gunner, 
Fusee. “ We will go now. The rebels will retire, my word for it. 

I would wager that they are even now moving stealthily back 


62 


OLD FUSEE. 


iuto Virginia. They have had enough of this fight for awhile. 
We will go to the house of James Bartholemew.” 

“ Ha!” interjected the listening ranger, sotto voce. “They are 
going to the house of James Bartholemew. And—” striking his 
hip in a hard, though muffled way— “ by my life, I believe there is 
the girl herself, Belle Bartholemew, in her gray riding habit, that 
I saw the other night when I first suspected that she was a spy. 
Yes, it is she. Oho ! if you go to your home, my charmer, be sure 
I will be there too. You ill find that the ‘rebels,’ as you call 
them, have not gone back into Virginia— not all, at any rate. I am 
here. I can find my rangers too, if they have not all been killed 
after that abominable charge upon the men of Hooker. Yes, I am 
here yet.” 

Old Fusee, for he it was, did not speak in the language and style 
we have seen him use when conveying to McClellan the informa- 
tion furnished by the beautiful spy. 

There was some secret about the man, then, who talked with a 
disguised tongue amid the regiments and before his commander, 
and with a mysterious naturalness when he addressed Belle Fusor, 
as we have noted him to do on a former meeting with the girl 
when she was fleeing from the rangers. 

For his companion now was Belle Fusor. 

“We will go to confront James Bartholemew now, bless your 
bright eyes. For to-morrow the battery may be ordered away 
from here, and years may elapse before I have such another 
chance to bring him to account for his villany. But what can 
keep the others ? They are lovers, you tell me ?” 

“Yes, Belle Bartholemew is the promised wife of Major Frank 
Carlton.” 

This remark puzzled the listening captain somewhat. 

But he muttered : 

“ The others. They are expecting others along here. I must not 
be caught. Not that I fear them— this man and another man who 
is to come — bah ! But I have an object just now in keeping my 
carcass out of danger. Ho ! I must remain whole to capture and 
to wed charming Belle Bartholemew, the dashing girl worth a 
hundred thousand dollars.” 

Cautiously he withdrew further back iuto the shadows, crawl- 
ing feet first under a bush whence he could still see, though he 
could not hear the conversation of the old gunner and the girl 
who were, perhaps rashly, making their way ^toward the house 
of James Bartholemew. 

Presently the captain saw another couple in the gloom approach- 
ing the pair who were standing in evident waiting. 

And then it was that his eyes distended in huge surprise as he 
noted the remarkable resemblance in stature, figure and carriage 
between the two girls. 

“ Ho 1” he mumbled, behind his teeth, “ two Belle Bartholomews ! 


OLD FUSEE. 


63 


and both dressed in gray. Alike as two peas in a pod ! Now, how 
am I to find out which is the real Belle Bartholomew? the one 
with the hundred thousand dollars. Curse me, if I want to get 
hold of the wrong one.” 

By his muttering it would appear that Captain Si Sorrel consid- 
ered the capture and coercion of the lovely young girl a fixed fact 
and only a question of a little time. 

How far correct he was in this self-confidence will be shown 
presently. 

When the party of four were joined, they started silently away 
and were in a few seconds lost to sight. 

The captain arose from his lurking place and stealthily follow- 
ed, while he was planing as to what he should do. 

Satan, it seems, is ever at hand to aid those who serve him in life 
with the promise of becoming his after death. 

Hardly twenty steps had Sorrel gone, when he was arrested by 
the sound of approaching and heavy crashing feet In the thicket 
not far to one side of him. 

Again he sought cover, dodging behind a tree with an oath at 
the interruption to his trailing of the four persons making their 
way through tbe woods toward the house of James Bartholo- 
mew. 

But the next instant he uttered another oath, and this time it 
was one of elation. 

He saw two men whom he recognized to be of his own company 
of rangers. 

“Ho, there!” he cried, stepping out, “ Halt!” 

His hoarse voice was recognized, for the men halted, and one 
said : 

“Captain Sorrel, as I’m a sinner!” 

“Yes, Captain Sorrel,” he responded, getting to their side. 

“ Thought you was a goner, cap, in that charge on the Yanks. 
There’s not many of us left.” 

“ To the deuce with the Yanks! Listen to me now. Come, fol- 
low me as you listen. I want you for some other kind of fighting, 
it may be. Forward.” 

With which he strode away again on the track of Fusee, Carlton 
and the girls. 

The two rough-riders— now without horses, since that charge 
wherein Sorrel came near losing his miserable life at the sword 
point of Major Carlton— followed their leader, ready as ever for 
any devilment or to fight, as he might choose to indicate. 

It was a perilous undertaking in which we now find our princi- 
pal characters— the old gunner, Major Carlton, and the two beauti- 
ful Belles. 

All that portion of the hills, gullies and roads north of Sharpsburg 
was alive with stragglers from the Confederate army; they were 
liable at any minute to be confronted by foes, who, in the still 


64 


OLD FUSEE 


warm excitement of the recent battle, would assuredly have sub- 
jected them to some pretty rough, if not fatal handling. 

When joined by the two men of his ranger company— dare devils 
both— Captain Sorrel made no effort to conceal the fact that he 
was on the trail of the four who were thus venturing away from 
the Union lines. 

Boldly he followed the course he knew that they must pursue 
to reach the destination he had heard them mention. 

And it was not long before the quick ears of the fair spy de- 
tected that there was some one in their rear coming persistently 
after them, notwithstanding they made several turns — some one 
who drew nearer and nearer, until at last she said : 

“ We are being tracked — did you know it?” 

All paused. 

The others heard now. For Sorrel and his men were swishing 
the leaves and twigs aside with their heavy boots in a careless and 
rapid tramp. 

But f<jr the darkness the two parties would have been plainly 
visible to one another. 

As it was, a collision was imminent. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

REVOLVER SHOTS. 

At a word from'Old Fusee, the four dropped to their knees be- 
hind a tall and broad bush from the midst of which grew a giant 
tree. 

Had it been daylight, and they could have had the choice of a 
covert, they could not have selected a more admirable place. 

None too soon was the movement, for just then Sorrel and his 
ruffian pair came directly upon the spot. 

Arrived there and, as by some strange fatality, deliberately 
halted. 

“We ought to have come up with them by this time, I think,” 
spoke the voice of the ranger captain. 

“ Up with who ? What are we after, cap ?” 

“ Two girls and two men.” 

“ Might I ask, cap, what’s wanted with them?” questioned the 
other. 

“They’re all cursed Yanks — every one!” 

“ Oh!” exclaimed both in a breath. 

“ And if we have not missed them in the darkness, I think we 
may catch them hiding around here. Fools we all are, making so 
much noise! Why did I not think of that? Listen !” 

From their concealment every word was plainly audible to our 
party. 

Fusee leaned and whispered in the major’s ear: 

“ I make out, by the voices I hear, that there are but three. Are 
not you and I a match for three?” 


OLD FUSEE. 


65 

“ For three, yes,” acquiesced the major; ‘‘but remember, old 
fellow, there may be others in this vicinity who are our bitter ene- 
mies, and a row with this trio might get us into a far worse 
mess.” 

“ True. I had not reckoned on that.” 

At this point occurred something unfortunate. 

Belle Bartholemew heard the whispered conversation. The 
brave girl was averse to being held inactive by the presence of 
only three men. She had not the experience of Belle Fusor, else 
she would never have done what she now did. 

In an under tone she said : 

“We are armed. Let us charge them. The chances are we can 
easily rout them.” 

Another moment showed the rashness of her speech and its audi- 
ble inflexion. 

“ Ho!” sounded the voice of Captain Sorrel. “ I hear somebody 
talking.” 

“ And so do I,” joined one of the men. 

“ Good ! They are in hiding near. Beat about— beat about!” 
With drawn sabers, following the example of their leader, the 
rangers began flaying the bushes to right and left, thrusting, jab- 
bing, and momentarily drawing nearer to the bushy hiding-place. 

It was only a question of a short time ere the discovery must be 
made. 

But Sorrel and his vassals stopped beating the bushes and listened 
in astonishment to a challenge that just then greeted them, thus: 

“ S-a-y, ain’t you boyees a barkin’ up the wrong tree ? Who in 
in blasted tarnation do yeou take us fur, eh ? Better be a pokin’ 
round som’ers war yeou b’long at, hadn’t yeou?” 

It was the gruff voice of old Fusee, and his language and tone 
were of the disguised kind we have seen him assuming when in the 
presence of his commander, and by which he was characterized in 
his mingling with the boys of his battery. 

But Sorrel was not to be deceived by any suggestion this speech 
may have been intended to throw out. 

“ Ho ! here they are. Come out you Yanks. Surrender !” 

“ Reckon you’ll have to fetch us out, my bold boyee.” 

“ By my soul ! I will.” 

And in another breath Sorrel cried : 

“ Here they are in this bush. Charge into them, lads !” 

But there was no irhmediate obedience to the order. 

For while that order was on the ranger captain’s lips, all dis- 
tictly heard the ominous cocking click of more than one revolver, 
and again the disguised voice of Old Fusee said : 

“ Charge away!” 

“ Cap, they’re armed, “reminded-one of the hesitating men. 
“Armed ? Yes; they are armed. Did you expect to capture a 
man who was unarmed ? Charge, I say !” 

3 


66 


OLD FUSEE. 


“Why don’t you charge too?” asked one, suggestively. 

;Now Sorrel was no coward ; to the contrary, he was a bold as 
well as a bad man. 

But it has already been shown that at that particular time he 
had a very great inducement to avoid any danger that might re- 
sult in death. 

The audible clicking of the revolvers meant death. 

If by chance he should receive a mortal wound, that would be 
the end of him and his visions of the one hundred thousand dollars 
that he might grasp if Belle Bartholemew, by fair means or foul, 
could be made his wife. 

Even while he urged his men to drive the bidden parties from 
their covert, he was cautious enough to shelter himself behind a 
tree on the opposite side from that whence came the sound of 
cocking revolvers. 

“ I have dropped my saber in the tangle — curse it !” he lied, read- 
ily ; “and my pistols I emptied in a set-to with some Yanks a little 
way back. You may have heard the shots. At them, you ! Ho ! 
fifty dollars apiece if you get hold of the girls !” 

“ Better let us alone !” warned the voice of Old Fusee. 

The ranger captain’s offer was accepted with even more spry- 
ness than he had hoped for. 

With a yell they charged into the tall bushes. 

And another yell followed, as four revolvers banged and four 
bullets, every one, found a mark at that short range. 

Badly, though not fatally wounded, the rangers who risked their 
lives to win the reward offered by Sorrel, retreated precipitately. 

“ Charge ! At them again !” snarled their captain. 

“Cap, I’m wounded!” 

“ So’m I !” howled the second ranger. 

As tho men thus answered their captain, Old Fusee hailed them 
from his hiding place : 

“Why ain’t yeou a takin’ us out o’ hyer— say? Or, hev you 
concluded to let peac’ble cit’zens alone— hey ?” 

“I’ll have you out of there yet, you cursed Yanks !” shouted 
Sorrel, in a rage. 

“ Oh, will you, now ?” 

The tantalizing tone almost drove the ranger captain into an un- 
governable frenzy. But he controlled his desire to rush in upon 
the defiant little party, as he most assuredly would have done, 
headlong, under any other circumstances than those we have 
named, and snarled back at them with an oath : 

“By my soul! I’ll catch and string you all up on the highest 
tree in the woods — ha!” 

The last as, having located the speaker, Old Fusee fired his re- 
volver in the direction of the captain, the ball cutting with a spite- 
ful zip through the edge of the bark of the tree. 


OLD FUSEE. 67 

Au inch or two lower, and Sorrel would have received the ball in 
his brain. 

The subordinates, having learned what kind of mettle they were 
dealing with, had also sought shelter, and, wiser than their leader, 
they held utter silence, notwithstanding the pain of their wounds, 
lest a bullet might be sent in their direction. 

While matters were thus at a stand. Sorrel suddenly saw a file of 
men approaching through the gloom like a line of phantoms, mak- 
ing scarcely any noise to tell of their proximity. A file of men 
with guns, whereon gleamed dully in the shadows the brightness 
of polished bayonets. 

Stealthily they came stalking on, their progress being at but a 
few feet from the tree where Sorrel stood. 

Near enough for him to discover, presently, that they were Corn 
federates whom he at once conceived to be a picket patrol. 

“ Ho, there?” he called, stepping out. 

“Halt! Who comes?” demanded a sharp voice. 

“ Captain Si Sorrel, of Sorrel’s rangers.” 

“Advance and give the countersign ” 

“But, curse it ! ” interrupted Sorrel ; “ I haven’t been in since the 
fight, and I haven’t got any password. There are three of us; 
and from what I hear, that is about all that is left of my company 
after this bloody and abominable Antietam.” 

“ Come forward, Captain Sorrel.” 

The ranger advanced and was presently being closely scrutinized 
by the officer in charge of the patrol. 

A few questions and answers seemed to satisfy the Confederate; 
and then he asked : 

“I heard a lively succession of shots here. We were coming to 
investigate it. Can you tell me anything about it ?” 

“Yes, we can,” half blubbered one of the rangers, as the two 
rogues joined the squad. “ Here’s two of us wounded, and I think 
I am bleeding to death with a bullet in my hip.” 

“And I with a bullet that seems to have struck my neck and 
gone clear through me down to my heels !” snapped the second, in 
a tone of considerable pain. 


CHAPTER XX. 

WASTED AMMUNITION. 

“Silence!” snarled their captain. 

He said to the officer : 

“ We are after four cursed Yanks. Two are females. One of 
the females is a spy.” 

“ Have you lost them ?” 

“ Lost them !” his rage showing itself afresh at the thought of 
how he had been held at bay by the ready revolvers of the pur- 
sued, “Lost them! No! They are close at hand this minute. 


68 


OLD FUSEE. 


They are hiding in that bush there,” pointing off, “and, blast it! 
we have nearly all been killed by their fire. The women are fight- 
ers too— all fighters!” 

“ Well, we will soon have them out of that. But it would make 
too muoh of an alarm to have my men discharge all their guns at 
once. Rophart?” he called. 

“Yes, lieutenant.” 

“ Step this way. You are a fair shot. Level on those bushes and 
wait my word.” 

“ What are you going to do ?” quickly asked the ranger. 

“Give them a chance to surrender, and if they won’t, why, I’ll 
blow them sky high, that’s all ” 

“ But— but— hold on!” interposed Sorrel. “You’ll kill the 
woman. Isay there’s women in there.” 

“ And you say one was a spy.” 

“Yes, but ” as he saw the possibility of Belle Bartholomew 

being shot and his dreams of obtaining possession of the hundred 
thousand dollars gradually fading in this prospect. “But one of 
the girls I would not have hurt for a mint of money.” 

“ Oh, you wouldn’t? What is a Yankee girl to you— if she is a 
Yankee girl and a spy, as you say ? 

Sorrel would have endeavored to give some lying explanation, 
but the officer of the squad was a stern and quick disciplinarian. 
Breaking in heedlessly on the speech Sorrel would have made, he 
ordered, to the soldier who had come to his side: 

“ Ready — take aim, Rophart.” 

And louder, addressing whoever might be in the bushes : 

“ Hello, there ! Will you come out ?— or shall I give the word to 
blow you and that bush into a million fragments?” 

Sorrel stepped back, and both his horny hands ran pulling and 
twisting through his hair as he muttered, under his breath : 

“ A ton of bald curses on the head of this fellow with his squad ! 
He will be as good as his word. He will blow them up— blow up 
the charming Belle Bartholemew, and away in the pieces go my 
hundred thousand dollars! By my soul! it is a raw shame !” 

There was no response to the hail. 

“Surrender, I say,” again the Confederate called. “I give you 
just ten seconds ; then look out !” 

“Ten seconds!” groaned Sorrel, inwardly. “ In ten seconds my 
prospects of wealth will be blown to fragments! My ourse, and a 
curse forever, on this hot-head!” 

The limited time passed by slow counts in the brain of the Con- 
federate. 

“ Suddenly he uttered the one word: 

“Fire!” 

Bang! exploded the musket. 

Then silence. 

“Will you surrender?” 


OLD FUSEE. 


69 


No reply. 

The officer was now aroused. If there was anybody in the bush, 
they were of a mettle that would not scare. 

“ I’ll have them out of there, if I rouse the whole army !” he ex- 
claimed. 

The whole squad were ordered forward to a position in front 
and not twenty feet from the bush. 

“ Ready ! aim ” he commanded them ; and paused to call 

once more to the supposed party in hiding : 

“ Here is your last chance ! Will you surrender ?” 

Silence still. 

“Fire!” he gave the word. 

Every musket banged simultaneously, and the bushes were torn 
in shreds by the bullets that hurtled through them. 

Not a cry to tell of wounded humans; not a sound following 
the discharge to so much as indicate that there was, or ever had 
been, any one concealed within the undergrowth. 

A suspicion suddenly formed in the mind of the officer. 

Alone, with drawn sword, he boldly advanoed toward the 
bushes. 

A few moments later he was heard to utter an oath, and with 
the oath, the words : 

“ We are deceived ! There is nobody here! and I don’t believe 
there has been anybody here ! Seize that fellow who calls himself 
Captain Sorrel, of Sorrel’s rangers !” 

He strode back to his men, saying : 

“Where is he? I believe we have been cunningly hoodwinked. 
That man was not what he represented himself to be, and this 
tale about the four Yanks in hiding was a lie with an object.” 

That it was a “lie with an object,” he was immediately con- 
vinced ; for Sorrel and his two wounded companions had vanished 
noiselessly in the darkness 

Vanished at the first words of the officer, intimating that nobody 
was to be found in the bush ; for the ranger’s quick perception re- 
alized that this fact would throw him under just such suspicion. 
With a sly sign tc his subordinates, he glided away unobserved by 
the soldiers, whose gaze was on the bushes where their lieutenant 
had entered. 

“ Ho!” Sorrel muttered ; “ I cannot afford to lose time by being 
run in by this hot-head with his squad. How could Belle Bar- 
tholemew and the others have gotten away ? But no matter— 
they have gotten away, and that is enough. I shall leave this 
lieutenant to unriddle that, while I hasten to the house of James 
Bartholemew, where I know I shall catch my game. Forward, 
men, and tread like cats. Never mind those wounds of yours ; I’ll 
plaster them deep with scrip to-morrow.” 

The ready action of Sorrel sayed km from considerable inpon- 


70 


OLD FUSEE. 


venience. It would have taken some time for him to be fully re- 
cognized as the captain of the rangers he professed to be. 

The lieutenant was of a strange regiment, and held Sorrel under 
the grave suspicion of being what he represented the mythical 
party in the bush to be — a Yankee spy striving to escape capture 
by a shrewd subterfuge. 

The disappearance of the men and girls is easily explained. 

Apprised of this reinforcement, as it were, to the intentions of 
the ruffian captain, Si Sorrel, Old Fu3ee said : 

“ We must get out of here.” 

“ In a hurry, too,” agreed Carlton. 

“ Be in motion, then. Take the girls with you.” 

“ With me ? And what are you going to do ?” 

“ I shall remain.” 

“ What can be your object ?” 

“ To cover your flight if it becomes necessary. At the last 
pinch I could divert them from you for awhile by even giving 
myself up ” 

“ I will not hear of such a thing,” emphatically protested Belle 
Fusor. 

There was evidently some powerful and mysterious tie between 
the old gunner and the girl. 

“ Have no fear, bright eyes,” he said, “ I have not lived past my 
three score and ten to be killed by rebels. Do as I say. Go with 
the major, both of you, and lose no time. If lam fortunate enough 
to escape I will join you at the cave in the hill.” 

He alluded to that same cave where we have seen Carlton and 
the girls successfully hido on a previous occasion. 

It was apparently a meeting place fixed upon at an early date 
between the old gunner and the beautiful spy when she became 
one of those efficient scouts in the service of McClellan in that 
section. 

She said no more. 

Minutes, precious minutes, were flying. Obeying the instruct- 
ions of Fusee, the three withdrew noiselessly backward from the 
covert, and were soon safe beyond the reach of the musket bullet 
that presently came ripping through the bushes. 

But Fusee did not remain idly crouching there after the others 
had left him. 

With no more noise than a climbing cat, and with an ease that 
seemed remarkable for one of his years, notwithstanding the 
knotty muscles that were his, he ascended the tree that reared 
from the bushes, and was soon ensconsed in the leafy boughs high 
above range of the first and subsequent bullets that tore into the 
concealment at the order of the Confederate lieutenant. 

“ Fire away,” he chuckled, lowly. “ I guess you will only waste 
ammunition now, my bold Johnnies !” 

And he chuckled again when he comprehended that their ab- 
sence was discovered — could scarcely restrain an open laugh 


OLD FUSEE. 51 

at the turn affairs took in throwing suspicion on the ranger 
captain. 

Meantime, the three were speeding away, having risen to their 
feet and started at a gait almost a run. 

“ Be cautious how you tread,” warned Belle Fusor, “as we have 
seen, the woods are full of the Confederates, and we are not by any 
means safe yet.” 

The two lovers yielded to every admonition from the lovely girl, 
whose experience in wood lore they knew must be superior to 
theirs, because of her intrepid performances as a spy. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

AGAIN HEMMED IN. 

Had it not been for Belle Fusor’s familiarity with the lay of the 
country in that particular locality, the trio must unavoidably have 
fallen on more than one occasion into the hands of their en- 
emies. 

The hills and little valleys seemed to fairly swarm with the Con- 
federates on this night of the day on which the great battle was 
fought. 

“If we had horses now,” said Carlton, suggestively. 

“ And if we had,” responded the spy, “ we would be captured 
without doubt. It is a long road we have started upon ; but our 
merest chance for safety lays in stealthy movement, which would 
be impossible with horses.” 

The two girls walked side by side, and at times with arms around 
one another’s waists. 

Bell Bartholemew felt now a strange influence attracting her to- 
ward the beautiful Belle Fusor; and the inexplicable feeling was 
mutual, for the spy seemed to have conceived a sisterly love for the 
girl so astonishingly her own counterpart in many ways. 

Unerringly the spy led the way to the cave in the hills, where 
they entered the screening growth that hung like a curtain from 
the towering bank. 

“Iam thirsty,” she said, when they reached the rendezvous; 
“ Wait a moment and I will bring some water.” 

She was never without a small canteen, and, unslinging this, she 
left them alone in the darkness, presently returning with a plente- 
ous draught from a cool spring gushing forth not far away. 

A fortunate action was this, as an after event proved. 

“ What can be the object of Old Fusee’s going to the home of 
James Bartholemew through such dangers?” Carlton ventured to 
ask, as they drew back into the broad Assure in the hill. 

“ That I cannot exactly say,” replied Belle Fusor. “ But I know 
there has existed a lifelong feud between Fane Fusor and James 
Bartholemew.” 

“ Fane Fusor?” repeated the major, inquiringly. 


72 


OLD FUSEE. 


“Thai is the name of the man you and every one else know only 
as Old Fusee. A name 1 have ever called him since I was old 
enough to lisp the words at his teaching.” 

“ He is your father ?’ ’ 

“ No,” with a sigh. “I have never known a father, or mother, 
either. But dear Old Fusee has been a father to me, while he has 
impressed me with the fact that there is no relationship between 
us, and that I have been greatly wronged by some one whom he 
hoped to meet and call to an account some day. That some one, I 
now know, is James Bartholemew.” 

“ It is a strange coincidence,” here spoke Belle Bartholemew, 
“ that James Bartholemew is not my father ; nor have 1, like your- 
self, ever known father or mother. Uncle Jim has been kind to 
me, though, in the past. Always kind until two nights ago. On 
that night, too, I made rather a singular discovery.” 

“What like, darling?” Carlton asked, as she hesitated. 

“ In a very mysterious manner, a note was introduced into the 
house, intended only for the eyes of Uncle Jim. He dropped it, 
and I found it; before I fully realized that I had no right to peruse 
its contents, I read there a threat of some kind to call him to ac- 
count for some hinted villainy in the past.” 

“ It was I who brought the note to his possession,” said the spy. 
“ I met a young negress, Topsy, outside at tho time when I was 
hunted there by the mounted men.” 

“ Yes, I can understand now that it must have been through 
you it came there, for since I have met you, I can see how the girl, 
Topsy, reasonably insisted that I had given her the epistle with 
instructions to place it where Uncle Jim would find it.” 

“ It was written by Fane Fusor.” 

“ So the signature told ; but have you no idea whatever what 
this feud can be between Fane Fusor and Uncle Jim ?” 

“ None. Dear Old Fusee has not made me his confidente in that 
particular.” 

“ We will know pretty soon,” Carlton inserted, “ if we succeed in 
reaching the gentleman’s house.” 

“ ‘ If,’ ” repeated Belle Fusor. “ We are in the midst of foes just 
now ; and I can only say that I think it must be something extra- 
ordinary, that dear Old Fusee should place himself and us in so 
much jeopordy to have an interview with James Bartholemew. 
He said, though, that this battery might be ordered away from 
the locality to-morrow, and he probably would not have another 
opportunity for years to accomplish his object.” 

“ Ordered away,” echoed the major, in surprise. “ Why, we will 
surely have a continuance of the battle with the Confederate 
army to-morrow.” 

“Fusee is of a different opinion. He asserts that the fighting is 
over.” 

“ Nonsense!” 


OLD FUSEE. 73 

After events, however, were to prove that the old gunner knew 
what he was prophesying. 

“Hush!” breathed the spy, suddenly. 

A sound of tramping feet was heard outside, as of several per- 
sons passing. 

Men in Union blue or Confederate gray— they could not tell 
which ; but whoever it was— and there were several— they were 
gone in a few seconds. 

The trio were just indulging in a breath of relief, when there 
came another sound, and this time it was to cause them a slight 
start of apprehension. 

More tramping feet. 

Voices, rough, swearing copiously, anathematizing like this: 

“ Curse this wound in my hip ! I can go no further, cap. I 
think I have bled about a quart.” 

“Not half so bad as this wound in my neck ; a double curse on 
it. A quart, say you, comrade? Soul and body ! I have bled no 
less than a tubfull, I make my oath ! Might as well lay down and 
die here as anywhere else.” 

“ Ho ! you overgrown babies ! Ten to one you are only scratch- 
ed and have no wounds at all. Bah ! but we will stop here and 
examine those wounds of yours that you are making such a blub- 
bering about.” 

“You’d blubber, too, cap, with a mortal wound in your hip.” 

“ And with half of your neck torn away by a bullet, “supple- 
mented the other and first speaker. 

The men who were thus complaining of terrible wounds, and the 
one who ridiculed the idea of their being seriously hurt, were the 
rangers who had suffered in that yelling charge into the bushes 
shortly before, and the ranger captain, Sorrel. 

It was certainly a strange fatality that guided him so close on 
the trail of the parties he was after. 

“ Look about, feel about, and gather some sticks ; I have matches 
here; we Will make a fire and take a look at your wounds,” the 
captain said. 

And in a few minutes the three outside the secret cave had a 
small fire burning on the grassy terrace that sloped down from 
the bank where our characters were standing, scarcely breathing, 
behind the sheltering vines. 

By the light of the fire Sorrel proceeded to examine the wounds 
of his men. 

First the man who was bleeding to death from a bullet hole in 
the hip ; and Sorrel uttered a disgusted grunt as the flame of the 
fire revealed nothing more than a gouge in the flesh above the 
bone— nothing at all serious, though possibly very painful and 
ugly in the clots of blood that had accumulated on the surface of 
the torn flesh. 

Next the man with half his neck ripped away, as he had said ; 


OLD FUSEE. 


and then Sorrel uttered an oath of contempt for his follower, as 
he saw that, though a huge piece of flesh had been cut off by the 
stinging bullet, the main artery of the neck was intact, and a 
small loss of blood was all that would result if the wound was 
properly bandaged. 

“ Ho! you squalling cowards. Bah! a man could march a hun- 
dred miles with such wounds as those, and if he was a man at all, 
he would never mention them. Find some water; bathe your 
hurts and bandage them. You will be good for another charge 
to-morrow when we again pitch into the Yankee devils; and there 
will be a big fight to-morrow, I think.” 

Somewhat crestfallen when they realized the insignificance of 
their wounds, the two began to look around for some water. 

This was presently found in the dripply overflow from the same 
spring from which Belle Fusor had procured a canteen full of the 
refreshing liquid for herself and companions. 

Some time was occupied in dressing the wounds of the two dur- 
ing which Sorrel stamped about unrestedly, anon urging them to 
make haste, with great oaths. 

And when the operation was through with, and just as the ruf- 
fian triplet were about to move away, they, the hunters, suddenly 
found the tables turned ; for the stillness around them was broken 
by a peremptory voice, shouting : 

“Surrender, there, you Johnnies!” 

From the shadows cast by the fire they had built, forth came 
half a dozen boys in blue. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

HOT WORK. 

The ranger captain now found himself in a predicament where 
there was no escaping a fight. 

But quickly he observed that the Federals who advanced upon 
him and his men with the demand to surrender, were without any 
arms save their bayonets, which they flashed from their sheaths 
as they came forward. 

Sorrel’s men must have noted this fact at the same time their 
leader did. 

For, with a simultaneous motion, up rose six heavy cavalry 
revolvers. And as they rose they banged away at the boys in blue. 

“Ho! Give it to them !” cried Sorrel, his arms beginning those 
vertical see-saw motions we have seen before, and his weapon 
barking with a swift, deadly regularity. 

At the first fire three of the blue coats went down, two of them 
never to rise again. 

But these were no stragglers. 

Men of courage were they, and the remainder still pressed on to 
assail the trio of rangers fearlessly. 

And it seemed that this steady advance must have discouraged 


old fused. ?5 

the rangers, for, after the first fire, their bullets sped wide of the 
mark, and in another moment it was to be a hand to hand en- 
counter. 

At sight of soldiers of his own colors, Major Carlton could not 
restrain himself. He appeared to forget the errand upon which 
he and his party were bent, he only saw a conflict between the 
boys in blue and the hated gray. 

Snatching forth his revolver, he sprang from his concealment, 
shouting: 

“Down ’em! Down with the rebs!’’ 

At the same time his own revolvers joined the bangs and barks 
of the cavalry weapons. 

This fire from the rear would have resulted in their route, if not 
the death of the rangers, had not something else occurred at that 
moment to turn the entire scene in favor of the three surprised 
Confederates. 

Carlton’s fire had been directed entirely upon Sorrel. 

The captain dropped his weapons, threw up his arms and spun 
round several times, as if mortally hurt, and a stream of blood 
gushed over his bearded face. 

But he recovered himself, wheeled again and dashed headlong 
away from the spot. 

In the opposite direction started, at a full run, the other two, 
but halted as still another sound broke on this battle in miniature. 

“Charge! Into ’em! Down with the accursed Yanks!” were 
words that rung through the trees at this juncture. 

Forward at a run came the squad we have seen Sorrel meet 
shortly before, led by the fiery young lieutenant. 

Covering the retreat of Sorrel, they charged upon the Federals, 
and ere the latter could fly two of them were prisoners held by 
the roughest hands that every griped with the strength of hatred. 

It was then that Carlton realized how thoughtless had been his 
act. 

To escape capture he must flee. 

It would never do to return to the concealment he had left. 

That would betray the girls. 

Thinking and acting quickly, be turned and bounded away in a 
direction opposite to that from which the lieutenant and his squad 
had approached. 

Several bullets whistled over his receding head, fortunately none 
striking him. 

After going some distance, and halting as he became aware that 
he was not pursued, he had time for reflection upon the mess he 
had made of it by leaving the safe covert. 

He was now separated from the girls ; perhaps, having seen him 
appear from the vine curtained bank, Captain Sorrel— if that 
worthy was not killed by the shots that were sent in earnest for 
his death— would instigate a search there, and both Jhis betrothed 


OLD tftfSEE, 


76 

and the beautiful spy would fall captive to the Confederates* 

“ I wish somebody would give me a good kicking!” he wished 
for himself, as he stood crouching not far from where he could see 
the unfortunate Unionists, in the hands of their captors, being 
roughly treated and reviled. 

And as he witnessed the indignities that were put upon the pris- 
oners, his blood boiled within him, and he exclaimed : 

“ By Heaven ! I will not desert those boys ! At the risk of my 
own life I must do something for them. But what about the 
girls?” 

This after thought presented a dilemma. 

Meantime, having made his prisoners secure, the Confederate 
lieutenant advanced to a form that, half prostrate, was leaning 
against a tree. 

Captain Sorrel. 

He was hard hit, for, after going a short distance, he sunk to 
the ground, and for several minutes he lay in a semi-conscious 
state. 

The ranger captain’s face was a fearful sight to look upon. 

From a wound in the head the blood was trickling down over 
his bearded and fierce visage ; and his appearance, added to the 
horrible oaths that volumed from his lips, presented a spectacle 
that even the lieutenant felt impressed with. 

“ You are wounded?” he said. 

“By my soul! do I look as if I was making believe?” was the 
savage response. “ But as I can’t see the top of my head, suppose 
you examine and see whether the accursed bullet has gone clear 
through.” 

Examination showed that the captain had received a terrible 
scalp wound, which laid open a furrow clear around the skull. 

But it was not a wound that a man would be apt to die with, if 
attended to in time. 

The lieutenant was a skillful manipulator of bandages, fortun- 
ately, and soon Sorrel was considerably relieved, though still 
an ugly sight, with his blazing eyes and his beard clotted and 
stained. 

“Your voioe sounds familiar to me,” remarked the lieutenant, 
while occupied In adjusting the bandages. 

“Yes, we have met before; not long ago this night.” 

“To-night?” 

“ Yes. But we had no light. You thought I was not what I told 
you I was. Ho ! you would, no doubt, have ordered me shot when 
you came to that conclusion. Are you satisfied now that I am no 
infernal spy?” 

“You are ’ 

“ Captain Si Sorrel, of Sorrel’s rangers.” 

“ Captain, I must confess, I thought you had deceived us about 
there being parties— Yankees — in the bushes.” 


OLD FTJSEfo W 

“ Well, t did not. And it turns out that I was ciose on their track 
when I sneaked away from you, though I did not know it until a 
moment ago.” 

“ A moment ago — how ?” 

‘‘Did you not see a man— a Yankee devil— in major’s uniform 
banging away with his pistols as you arrived here?” 

“Ha! yes. Where is he?” and the lieutenant looked quickly 
over his shoulder to see whether that person was included in the 
capture. 

“Ho! where is he?” Sorrel repeated the other’s words. “Yes, 
where is he ? Why, a mile from here by this time, I calculate. But 
hist! listen. He issued from there!” 

Sorrel, still maintaining his position against the tree, as if weak 
from the effect of his wound, pointed toward the mass of vines and 
creepers that hung down over the edge of the bank. 

“ He issued from there,” he whispered, hoarsely. 

“Well?” 

“ Bah ! did I not tell you that there were four in the lot ? If the 
Yankee major came from a hiding place in those vines, can you not 
see the rest must be there.” 

“You are right,” hastily arising. 

“ But wait,” detained Sorrel, as the lieutenant made as if to ad- 
vance at once and boldly upon the suspected hiding place. 

“Well, what is it?” 

“ One of those girls I mentioned is Belle Bartholemew, the ward 
of old James Bartholemew, who lives on the Shepherdstown road. 
James Bartholemew is an intimate friend of General Lee’s. Blazes! 
if harm befalls Belle Bartholemew, you will hear from General 
Lee ! Remember that.” 

“ What is she doing with another girl who is, you say, a Yankee 
spy?” 

“ Was there ever a man who could account for what a woman 
does ? The two girls are together. That I know, and it is all I 
know— excepting that the other is a spy. So be careful what you 
are at.” 

This advisement, delivered with considerable emphasis, a ghast- 
ly emphasis, coming from the lips of a man disfigured by his own 
blood, had precisely the effect Sorrel meant it should. 

For while the lieutenant had at once resolved to capture the girl 
he was informed was a spy, he also began to tax his wits for a way 
to accomplish this without bringing bodily harm to the ward of a 
man who was an intimate friend of the great Southern com- 
mander. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

A DOUBLE AMBUSH. 

Falcon, for such was the Confederate lieutenant’s name, was just 
then attracted by a disturbance among the prisoners. 


78 


OLD FUSEE. 


A wrangle regarding them, of some kind, was in loud progress, 
and the voices in dispute were so mingled in confusion that, it was 
impossible to distinguish what was being said. 

“What’s the row here?” he demanded, hastening to the little 
crowd at one side. 

One of the Federals responded, above the din of rough voices : 

“ Say, are you and your Johnnies a gang of cutthroat pirates ?” 

“ What do you mean, you Yankee dog ?” 

The answer came in a chorusing and loud howl from Confeder- 
ate soldiers. 

“ We’re argying ’bout whether to string ’em up right here, cap. 
It’s the best way.” 

“Oh, you are, eh?” his eyes flashing. 

“Yes. Wot’s the use of being bothered with a lot o’ Yanks on 
our hands. Wot do you say, lieutenant ” 

“ I say that the first man who puts a rope around the necks of 
those men, will get a bullet in his brain, and I’ll be the one who 
fires it ! What do you dare to mean, you hounds ? I’m command- 
er here! See that the prisoners are secure— and you had better — 
that will suffice. No bodly harm to them — mind that!” 

“ Bully for you, graycoat!” sung out the captives. 

We have said that the young lieutenant was a strict disciplin- 
arian. It chafed him to see his squad dare to assume such a high 
hand ; and no matter how much he really would have enjoyed 
seeing the hated soldiers in blue dangling from the trees and 
strangling, he resented the boldness of his subordinates with com- 
mendable asperity. 

Sorrel had arisen from beside the tree and came a short way for- 
ward toward the group. 

“Ho!” he muttered, under his mustache, “The lieutenant is 
right; but it is a pity to keep the infernal Yanks— they might 
spoil. I would say hang ’em ; but there is both fire and pepper in 
the make up of that young fellow. I can tell by the glitter of his 
eyes that he means as much as he says ; he would certainly shoot 
the man who tried on the game of hanging the Yanks.” 

Even with this conclusion in his brain, Sorrel ventured to whis- 
per, hoarsely, into the young officer’s ear : 

“ Were it I, I would let the men hang the ’cursed Yanks.” 

The lieutenant wheeled on him sharply. 

“ Captain Sorrel, I command here. You will please not inter- 
fere. I know my duty.” 

Under which reproof the ranger captain was obliged to rest. 

There was some murmuring among the Confederates ; but the 
sound was not loud enough to reach the lieutenant’s hearing. 

8ome there had witnessed the lieutenant’s manner of dealing 
with insubordination on similar duty of picket patrol. 

He had deliberately and promptly shot down a man before now 
for the slightest sign of inattention to his orders. 


OLD FUSEE. 


79 


There was tiger and iron in his eyes and hands. 

“Now we will attend to those who are, you think, in that tangle 
of vines there.” 

“ Yes, in there. But remember what I have sr id about one of 
those who are in hiding, lieutenant.” 

“ My memory is not so very short.” 

Falcon turned, and, with a frown, surveyed the overhanging 
screen of vines, unaware that behind it was a fissure almost like a 
cave. 

And again he began taxing his wits for some expedient to dis- 
lodge the fugitives without injury to that one who, Sorrel had in- 
formed him, was the ward of a man who was an intimate friend of 
General Lee’s. 

Whatever measure he might have resolved upon, it was surpris- 
ingly deferred. 

As he stood with folded arms, contemplating the place of con- 
cealment : 

Bang ! Zip !— zip ! 

And a man in the crowd of graycoats cried : 

“Ha! I’m shot!” 

It was the fatal bark of a revolver from the shadow of the trees 
on the west of the little natural terrace. 

Quick as a flash the lieutenant’s sword was out. 

“Fall in! Attention! charge those bushes!” he shouted, and 
setting the example, he plunged in the direction whence the shot 
came. 

His men followed promptly. 

But only half way to the ambush had they gone when there 
came a startling check. 

Bang! Zip!— zip! 

And again some one cried : 

“God save me! — I’m a dead man!” 

Another shot; and this time it was from the trees on the east. 
Both shots had found a mark, and two graycoats lay bleeding and 
dead on the sward. 

This second attack, and from an opposite quarter, produced a 
panic. The men halted irresolutely. 

“ We’re surrounded!” ejaculated one. 

The idea was universally conceived. With hesitating glances at 
their leader, who was himself somewhat taken aback by the dis- 
charges at front and rear, they broke and made off in a disordered 
body to the north, to escape the attack from the west and east. 

An attack it was, for following the first shots now began to blaze 
forth others into their midst, increasing the panic at every step 
they took. 

“Ho!” blurted Sorrel, in some alarm. “We are, as that man 
said, surrounded, I think. I must look out for my carcass. I must 
take care of myself, or I may not live to find my charming Belle 


80 


OLD FUSEE. 


Bartholomew and get hold upon that hundred thousand dollars 
which is hers. But, by my soul ! she is in that tangle of vines in 
the face of the hill, I am sure, and I shall not run any further than 
is absolutely necessary.” 

Run he did, as anxious apparently to get clear of the mysterious 
fusilade as any of the others; but he came to a stop when in the 
depth of the woods and not out of sight of the place he had marked 
as the concealment of the girl he had brutally determined to 
possess, or rob. or both. 

Within three minutes the opening before the cave was deserted 
Silence reigned, though still at a short distance, in retreat, could 
be heard the pattering feet of the disorganized squad. 

Falcon, though brave, was no fool. 

He joined the flight with a double purpose, to save his body 
from the bullets that were whistling around and to reorganize the 
patrol. 

But whoever had thus surprised the little band of gray coats 
they were not in a hurry to show themselves, and one of the 
Union boys who lay bound on the sward, called out : 

“ Hello ! come forward. The rebs have gone. Come and cut us 
loose, if you are friends to Uncle Sam.” 

“There cannot be many of them,” mumbled Sorrel, as he stood 
grimly behind a tree. “Not many, or they would have pursued 
the men they have nigh scared to death. Curse this wound on my 
scalp ! I am getting a thumping headache from it.” 

For fully half an hour the ranger captain maintained his double 


u waJ:ph ? upon the scr^n f of rf viij»es and to see who had so completely 
routed the Confederates. 

And steadily as he gazed he failed to observe ’tfia{'t&e t pnsoners 
were slyly moving by scarcely perceptible sqfairmiiig toward a 
certain point of the thicket beyond, , untit’slufdenly'he rt&beef his 
eyes as if there was yet some o/ ?he recent "Wood from liis wound 
.in them, and his bearded mouth yawped in astonishment. 

For the Union boys haa vanished. 



prisoners 

and roll and squirm toward that particular point, ' ’and* fie was'fob 

X- rv? i V 4-U^ 1 •' y ’ ' : l ‘ V ' [ [ ‘ 1 '* r an a* / / *7 


said': 

(jreV In fibre if y oif’can , 


and 1 wifi be able 16 Cut you 'loose, Tam all klone, and i dioii't 


:now 



And obey 
idle flushes i 

and a sharp penknife presently cut the thongs from fifed* it trfs 
and legs *’ r omm* rrr jfvrrc?W tiff ■ 

“ I am Major Carlton, of the — Pennsylvania 
ledly Said their liberator. Tri to,T 1 ' ■ ♦&***.!* ♦*> »-**»«> 


OLD FUSEE. 


81 


Adding a moment later : 

“ And now that we are in some force, we will go to the rein- 
forcement of some ladies that are ensconced in that vine bower 
over there.” 

“ Hurrah for you, major!” said one, though lowly. “ If I dared 
I would just like to shout a sweet cheer about now.” 

“Hush! The Confederates may not have gone as far as you 
think.” 

Boldly, however, they emerged and advanced toward the place 
where Carlton had^left the girls. 

The spying eyes of Sorrel followed their movements luridly. 

But a surprise awaited Carlton. 

When he swept aside the vines and gazed inward by the light of 
the still burning fire, he saw that the nook was empty. 

The two Belles were gone ! 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

THE DESTINATION BEACHED. 

All that transpired outside the cave in which the girls were 
crouching, was plaiuly visible to them ; and much of what was 
said they could hear. 

They did not hear that announcement of Sorrell’s which called 
the lieutenant’s attention to the viney covert, but they could 
judge by the ranger captain’s actions that he was indicating the 
place where they were. 

“ We will presently have to fight for our lives,” said Belle Eusor, 
to her companion, with compressing lips. 

“ That man with a bloody face is telling the young officer where 
we are. I think that must be the meaning of his pointing in this 
direction ; but how can he know that we are here?” 

,rt? ‘ He infers it.” 

“ Jnfgra i,t?— how ?” 

“ By seeing Major Carlton appear coming out of here.” 

“ Ah, yes ; , that was an unfortunate act of Frank’s.” 

' “ Very,!’ was the spy’s response; and mentally, she was vexed at 
the major’s foljly, w^ich now promised to bring them additional 
peril. “/We^are w^llartped^froyyever,” she continued. “ We will 
show them a pair of girls who can do some fighting, I imagine, ere 
they can overpower us.” Trrn 

“ I will fight to the la^ $r9P of pay blood,” declared Belle Bar- 
tholemew, calmly. ,,^ y , • . ■. .-rui 

Revolvers in land, r r ea<jy|or a 4eac|ly. resistance waited 

for the dYsco very which they felt was ineyj table. , 

When the shots from the invincible foe rung fpyth, yppp., the 
Confederates, Belle Fusoy grasped r jier, i co^panum’^ arp&, and 
whispered, hurriedly * , yo ..'1 Cf'.n « ■ 

“ Look ! some one has attacked them ” 


82 


OLD FUSEE. 


“ Dear, brave Frank,” broke in the other. 

“ This divertisemen twill give us a chance to escape.” 

‘‘In what way ?” 

“ See ! the grays are running ! Now is our chance. Come f ” 

With but a dim idea of the spy’s intention, Belle Bartholemew 
followed the former, who at that second started forward. 

Out from the covert they glided. 

In the confusion that then reigned, they were wholly unob- 
served, and swiftly they moved away from the vine growth to 
a wash in the bank up which they were clambering ere Captain 
Sorrel had reached and paused behind the tree from whence he 
began his watching. 

“ We will stay here awhile,” breathed the gpy. “ It is doubtful 
whether even Major Carlton has seen us, and we must strive to re- 
join him ; for Old Fusee said that he wanted the major present at 
the interview he intends to have with James Bartholemew. Dear 
Old Fusee! I wonder where he can be all this time? Grant it, 
Heaven, that no harm has befallen him !” 

“ You think we were not observed ?” 

“ I am sure of it. Hark ! all seems very still down there.” 

They listened, and Belle Fusor ventured to creep forward and 
peer over the bank upon the now deserted terrace. 

While thus engaged, a sound behind her startled Belle Fusor. 

Quickly she gained her feet. 

To see a familiar outline— familiar even in the gloom— standing 
beside her companion. 

It was Old Fusee. 

“ Bright eyes,” he said, lowly. 

She was by his side in an instant. 

‘‘You are safe! You dear Old Fusee, I am so glad !” 

“ Safe. But where's the major ?” 

When told of Carlton’s action, he shook his head and com- 
mented : 

“ A bad move. We must find him, though. And I think I know 
about where to look. It was he, no doubt, who fired those other 
shots into the rebs. Some one treated them to bullets from the op- 
posite side of the opening just as I opened fire. For I suspected 
you were in our cave, bright eyes, and thought 1 would try the 
mettle of the grayooats. Remain here while I scout about after 
the major.” 

Not long were they to wait. 

Fusee had not gone far from the girls when he saw Carlton and 
the boys in blue emerge boldly from the trees. 

“The rebs must have cleared out entirely,” he thought, “else he 
would never be so venturesome.” 

And he hailed : 

“ Major, this way. The girls are here.” 

“ That you, Fusee ?” — — 


OliD EUSEE. 


83 

“Yes. Come up the bank.” 

Carlton turned to the Federals. 

“I must part from you, my lads. We’ll meet again in battle, I 
guess. Take my advice and get back into your lines, and don’t be 
roaming so far from camp. You’ve had a narrow escape to-night. 
I have important things on hand to attend to, or I would like to 
have you remain with me. There, now, good-by.” 

“ Good-by!” they responded; and one added, gratefully : 

“ God bless you, major, for the good turn you’ve done us.” 

“ It’s all right. Good-by.” 

A few minutes later he was once more with his reunited party, 
and the four made another start in the direction of James Barthole- 
mew’s house, though by a round-about way, to avoid the bivouac 
fires of the Confederates which were dotting the greater portion of 
the country north of the Shepherdstown road. 

Cavalry, too, was seen by them moving along at intervals — per- 
haps the shattered regiments of that futile charge during the day 
when Sorrel’s rangers were so badly cut up. 

Fortune seemed to be more with the quartet now, however, and 
ere long they were in sight of the large stone dwelling that had 
been the home of Belle Bartholemew since infancy. 

Though the Confederate fires were to the north and south of the 
road, the immediate vicinity of the house appeared to be free from 
encompassment. 

By still cautious maneuvering they managed to draw near. 

Fusee then bade them halt. 

“ I will go on alone,” he said. “Look ; you see that light shining 
from an upper window ?” 

“Yes.” 

“ This is no new locality for me to be in ; years and years ago, 
when bright-eyed Belle here was a baby, I lived not far from the 
home of James Bartholemew. Yonder light, I think, as it was in 
those bygone days, comes from the apartment used as a library ; 
and in that library, in the long ago, sat James Bartholemew and 
myself, talking of one of the most sacred trusts that was ever given 
to two men. James was an upright and, I believe, an honorable 
man then ” 

“ What is there so very serious between you and Uncle Jim?” 
Belle asked, breaking in, for Old Fusee was beginning to utter 
words more in the shape of an oblivious musing than as if he meant 
to address those with him. 

“ You shall know all very soon. This much I will say ; in yonder 
house lives a man who has wronged you and dear bright eyes here, 
more than language can find words to condemn. No matter at this 
time; wait. Mark that light. It comes from the library. I am 
going there; I am about to confront James Bartholemew with his 
own dark deed. When you shall see that light dim and brighten 
again thrice, do you all come, too. Come without hesitancy 


OLD FUSEE. 


84 

straight up to the library— Belle Bartholemew will show the way, 
I may have a sight for you then ; a man cringing and begging foi 
mercy that he does not deserve. Major, I leave these precious ones 
—both very precious— to your keeping.” 

“ Have you no fear for them, as long as I shall breathe.” 

Old Fusee seemed to take an extraordinary solemn leave of his 
friends, even for so mysterious a mission as he was bent upon. He 
paused to imprint a kiss upon the brow of the beautiful girl spy — a 
kiss as reverential as a father’s. 

Did he apprehend that there was something ahead which might 
make this his last parting with the young girl he seemed to love so 
dearly. 

As his form receded from them, Belle Fusor said, uneasily : 

“ I am afraid something terrible is about to happen. I have 
never seen dear Old Fusee so affected before. Ah, what can be the 
secret between him and James Bartholemew ?” 

Belle Bartholemew was silent. She had heard enoueh to con- 
vince her that the man she had really learned to love as a benefac- 
tor, and who had been strangely indulgent with her, was guilty of 
some crime that would not bear the light of exposure. 

While she felt sorry in her heart for him, whatever it might be, 
she was a girl of spirit, and anything like crime, in her mind was 
enough to cancel much, if not all, love. 

While Old Fusee was moving forward upon his unknown errand, 
a pair of baleful eyes were fixed upon the trio who awaited the 
promised signal. 

Captain Sorrel, not far in their rear, was skulking away toward 
the line of Confederate fires that burned near the road by Sharps- 
burg. 

As he went, he was muttering with a savage satisfaction : 

“By my life, I have them now! 1 have them alii Two bold 
Yanks, a daring girl spy and my charming Belle Bartholemew! 
Good. Ho! if I had my rangers here now, I’d hustle my prize off 
and away to some retreat in the mountains, and there tame her 
until she would be glad to marry me and give me the right to 
handle the hundred thousand dollars I know to be hers.” 


CHAPTER XXY. 

A MISER AND HIS GOLD. 

The great stone mansion appeared to be deserted without and 
within. There was no sign of life; and the few horses in the 
stables were whinnying as if their accustomed attention had been 
neglected. 

Closed tight were all the windows and doors— all save that one 
high window from which gleamed the light Fusee had called his 
friends’ gaze upon. 

During the day old James Bartholemew had been on the top of 


OLD EUSEfi. 


85 

his dwelling, spy-glass in hand, earnestly watching that portion 
of the battlefield which was not obstructed from the view obtain- 
able from the eminence on which his house was built. 

All through the day, watching the great clouds of smoke and 
listening to the boom and rattle of guns that roared upward 
from where brave men were falling like wheat beneath the reap- 
er’s soythe. 

A full-blooded Southerner was he ; at every increased thunder 
of the guns the grinning smile on his attenuated features became 
deeper and deeper, and he muttered anathemas on the bluecoated 
horde that dared to thus strew the soil with the blood and flesh of 
Southern heroes! 

Even from his far removed post he could see that, if there was 
any advantage at all, it was gradully — gradually and terribly — 
balancing in favor of the Federal army ; and as the hours passed, 
his excitement became a half frenzy. 

It was only when too dark to distinguish more than the long 
lines of volleying musketry that he finally closed the glass and de- 
scended through the scuttle. 

There was an angry— a troubled look in his ratty face. 

He shook his sparse-haired head gravely. 

“Zounds! I am afraid — yes, I am afraid that Lee is going to be 
whipped. Perdition seize every Yankee on Maryland soil !” 

Somewhat to his surprise, he noted shortly that the house was 
without any occupant save himself— this when he rung and rung 
again thrice over to give an order for some refreshment; for, from 
early morning until the shades of evening fell, he had neither 
eaten nor drank anything, so intensely had he been absorbed with 
watohing that wonderful battleground. 

Pomp, Topsy, the cook, all had fled when the morning broke — 
fled to escape the terrible Yankees who, the old man had taught 
them to believe, were accustomed to eat negroes without pepper 
or salt ! They were long ago far away in the hills to the west of 
Sharpsburg before their old master descended from the roof. 

When he found that he was surely alone, a strange thought 
seemed to strike him. 

Going all over the house, he made sure that all was secure, and 
then, taking a lamp, he descended the stairs to the cellar. 

It was then fully night. 

Down he went ; and his actions were singular, for he paused 
anon and glanced backward as if fearful of being followed. 

Midway in the underground passage between the two cellars he 
finally halted, and once again looked searchingly toward the joisted 
stairs, listening as if in expectancy of some footfall following 
after him. 

Satisfied that no one could be near, he went to a corner of the 
solid masonry around him and took up a small shovel. 


86 


OLD tftTSEU. 


With this in hand he returned to the spot where he had deposited 
the lamp. 

Then James Bartholemew began a mysterious operation. 

Striking the shovel into the earth that was worn almost to the 
solidity of stone by the passage of feet over it, he started to dig in- 
dustriously. 

The dirt piled slow beside him at first, but presently he struck 
the more yielding earth beneath the surface, and ere long a con- 
siderable heap accumulated, and an excavation of perhaps three 
feet square was made. 

Then the shovel struck something that gave forth a metallic 
sound, and 

“ Ah !” he aspired, bending downward. 

At the bottom of the opening thus made was an iron slab 

At one edge of the slab was a ring. 

Grasping this ring he raished the slab. 

A remarkable sight was revealed. 

Beneath the slab was an iron receptacle, and in this were a num- 
ber of buckskin bags with labels. 

Gold— gold was there, and in the next miuute he had lifted out 
one of the bags, untied the twine that held its neck, and poured 
out upon the earthen floor a shower of golden eagles— double 
eagles, too, that shimmered and shone in the rays of the dully 
burning lamp. 

“ Mine ! All mine !” he actually jabbered. “ It required a nerve 
to win it; but it’s all mine — all mine ! Ha, ha! Pretty gold ! Oh, 
you pretty pieces !” 

He raised whole handfulls of the glittering coin, permitting it to 
slide and slip affectionately through his fingers; and as the daz- 
zling money fell and jingled he continued to mutter, while his 
face was bright with avaricious grinning : 

“ Pretty gold ! Oh, pretty gold ! ” 

We have said in a former chapter that James Bartholemew was 
miserly ; but it has been reserved for this chapter to show the love 
of money that possessed his whole soul, that the reader may more 
fully comprehend what led him to a crime for which the reckon- 
ing was fast now drawing near. 

“How many years— how many years,” he continued to jabber as 
his eyes feasted on the hidden wealth. “ Oh, nobody knew where 
you were, my pretty yellow things! They talked of war and the 
loss of everything that rich people might have. But I was too 
shrewd for them— yes, too shrewd. I drew you all in, my pets • I 
gathered you from afar and near. You came safely into the foid 
While others have lost and are losing all that they have toiled to 
earn, you are here— you are here ! Oh, I could not part from you 
my pretty, pretty golden prizes !” ’ 

Over and over again the shiny heap was raised and allowed to 
slip jingling through his fingers, and his thin lips drew back until 
the few teeth he had were exposed in the grin that became set 
rigidly on his exulting face. 

Suddenly he threw up his head. 

“What’s that?” fell in a whispery hiss from his chattering 
tongue. 

He cast a frightened look toward the joisted stairs, with both 


OLD FUSEE. 87 

hands grasping the heap of money before him, as if some one was 
about to snatch it from him. 

For, in the midst of his avaricious glee, he heard a sound as of 
some one moving in the upper passage. 

It seemed impossible that any one could be in the house; but 
presently the sound unmistakably was the sound of footsteps, not 
very stealthy either. 

Trembling with excitement, he grasped the shovel and began 
throwing the di»*t back again on top of the iron slab, which he let 
fall into its resting place. 

This accomplished, he took up the lamp and hurried from the 
cellar corridor, muttering in trepidation: 

“ Who can it be? How could anybody have entered the house, 
when I so carefully locked every door and window? But there is 
somebody up there, surely. Have they seen my gold ?” in a trem- 
ble of apprehension. “ Have they discovered the hiding place of 
my pretty prizes ? No. Whoever it is, they are going up the 
stairs, up the stairs. Who can it be? And how did they get in, I 
wonder? Some soldiers, one or more?” 

While the words were thus falling whisperingly fiom his thin 
lips, he was making all haste up the joisted stairs, then along the 
broad hall to the staircase leading to the upper stories. 

For whoever had entered the house was evidently making to- 
ward the floor above. 

Satisfied that the intruder could not have been spying upon his 
revelation of the hidden gold, he became vexed at what he con- 
sidered a bold— an over-bold— entrance into the privacy of his 
dwelling. 

By the time he had reached the second floor, he was frowning 
and ready for a hot speech of resentment. 

The sound of footsteps had ceased. 

But the old man had located their course; he knew that the in- 
terloper had gone to the library. 

With quick, jerky strides he hurried to the library. 

Within the room burned the only light in the building besides 
the lamp he still carried, and which we have seen to attract the 
attention of our quartette outside. 

Waving his own lamp ahead, he crossed the threshold. 

Crossed and paused abruptly, as he found himself confronted 
by a man with a snowy beard and twinkling, bright eyes, who 
turned upon him as he came in and regarded him with a steady 
sternness. 

The intruder was Old Fusee. 

A shutter at one ot the lower windows, wrenched completely 
from the fastening of its bolt, would have shown how he had ob- 
tained ingress. 

The old gunner folded his arms and frowningly surveyed James 
Bartholemew, who, in turn, stared back at the man he did not 
seem to know, and whose presence there was so great a surprise to 
him. 

“ Well, sir, who are you? What do you want? Zounds! you 
have broken into my house forcibly ,r 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

THE GREED OF GOLD. 

Fusee interrupted him by a gesture. 

And he said : 

•‘James Bartholemew, I am here to demand an account of the 
trust that was confided to you and to me nearly twenty years ago. 
Are you ready to give it ?” 


88 


OLD FUSEE. 


At sound of that deep voice, Bartholemew seemed suddenly- 
seized with an ague. 

His hands trembled, the limbs beneath him shook unsteadily. 
Had he not advanced quickly and deposited the lamp upon the 
table, he would have let it fall from his hold and shatter on the 
floor. 

“You!” he gasped. “ You here, Fane Fusor?” 

“ Ay, here. You know me now.” 

“ But I thought you were surely dead ?” 

“ It is not your fault, villain ! that I am not.” 

“ Not my fault?” 

“ Yes. The same murderous tools that you hired to strangle the 
twin children of Arnold Yokes came near accomplishing the as- 
sassination you hired them to perform ” 

“ I hired assassins ! Fane Fusor, what do you mean ?” 

Either old Bartholemew had recovered a wonderful possession of 
himself, or the front he assumed now was the most overpowering 
astonishment imaginable. 

“ No matter, I know that you hired ruffians to strike out my life 
at the same time they threw into the mountain stream the help- 
less little infant child of Arnold Yokes. That, even I could over- 
look ; for I have learned since that the remaining child you took 
good care of. Your conscience must have smote you hard, James 
Bartholemew, after the report of the death of the other babe and 
the false report that I, too, had sunk forever out of life under the 
waters. The weight of the sacrifice of two lives weighed heavily, 
that you should have paused, and instead of destroying the re- 
maining child, reared her in comfort and indulgence ” 

“ Fane Fusor, what are you talking about ? This is all Greek to 
me,” the old man broke in ; but his shrunken face was very pale, 
and his ratty eyes— now no longer ratty, but half glaring upon the 
speaker— were bulging wide. 

“ Sit down,” said Old Fusee, imperatively. 

The other obeyed, mechanically. 

Fusee took a chair opposite; and steadily, almost fiercely, he 
held the man before him under his gaze. 

“ When Arnold Vokes died, he left to you and to me his infant 
and twin children. He left, also, a considerable sum of money for 
their maintenance and education— sufficient to have accumulated, 
by this time, quite a snug fortune. Ah, you were an honorable 
man then, James. But the greed of gold entered your heart; it 
fastened and grew upon you until, night and day, you thought of 
nothing else, save how you could grasp the heritage of the orphans. 
Night and day you were taxing your brain for a means by which 
you could rid yourself of them and me. You knew that as long as 
I lived you dare not be guilty of a wrong toward them. In a 
short time an assassin’s plot was the result of your constant 
brooding. 

“ You determined that the children should die— have it appear 
as if they were drowned accidentally in the mountain stream. 
You decided that I must die. Oh, a hellish plot you formed. One 
infant was cast into the stream ; but there is a God above who does 
not permit such deeds. 

“ I had been struck down and hurled into the water by your 
ruffian accomplices, but the blow did not kill. I floated, half 
alive, down the stream, and Providence brought me to the spot 
where the other dark deed had been done. I saw, I rescued the 
babe. 

“ Half dead, filled with horror by the attempt upon my life, I 
could not think what could have been its object, until the finding 
of the babe suggested the instigator of the vile plot. Long I lurk- 
ed about the place, after that, to save the other child if a similar 


OLD FUSEE. 


89 


fate was in store for her ; but you seemed not to meditate any iu- 
jury to it, and I followed you watchfully when you removed it 
from your other home in West Virginia and came here to live ” 

“Stop !” interrupted Bartholemew, assuming a stern exterior 
that was far different from the quaking within his heart. “If I 
have been all the villain that you say, why have you not come 
forward and denounced me ere this ? Let me tell you that such a 
tale is preposterous. I mourned the loss of the infant, and instituted 
a rigorous search for it. Everyone — myself included — came to the 
conclusion that some hungry bear in the mountains had made off 
with it. A bear was killed, too, a few days after the disappearance 
of the child.’’ 

“ You are lying ” 

“ That is a hard word, Fane Fusor.’’ 

“ I say you are lying, and the boldness you are exhibiting now 
is assumed. But it will not avail you ” 

“ Then this will.” 

As he uttered the words, short and sharp, Bartholemew sudden- 
ly reached up and back of his coat collar. 

The next instant he had snatched from a sheath beneath the col- 
lar a long and gleaming bowie knife. 

Gripiug the knife, he half arose and bent his body toward Fusee, 
poising his arm aloft to strike. 

But the blow did not fall. 

Nor did Fusee make the slightest motion to ward off the intend- 
ed stroke of the knife. Still as a statue he sat ; but his keen eyes 
burned as they fixed even more intently upon Bartholemew, and 
there was that in their depths that seemed to palsy the very 
nerves of the arm that raised the murderous weapon within a few 
inches of his breast. 

“ James Bartholemew,” he said, in a voice fairly quivering in its 
sternness, “ do you think that one who lived through Waterloo, 
and who has faced the guns of the Southern army since the day at 
Sumter, is to be frightened by a toy like that? Why, I could 
take it from you and drive it back into your own heart as easily 
as I could pluck an apple from its bough. Pooh !” 

As Old Fusee said “ pooh !” he threw out one arm, striking the 
other on the wrist such a blow that, from sheer pain, the giasp on 
the knife was instantly relaxed, and the bright blade fell to the 
carpet, sticking straight up at Bartholemew’s feet. 

“ I did not come forward and denounce your attempt upon my 
life and the life of the babe because I wished to ascertain, first, ex- 
actly what your object was. And as I became convinced that if 
you had intended to kill the other babe you had changed your 
mind, I could afford to wait. It took many years to fathom your 
scheme entirely, War broke out, and, my restless spirit at once 
enthralled by enthusiasm, I enlisted in the army of the North. At 
the first real sign of war I learned your plot. You were resolved 
to be rid of the heirs of Arnold Vokes, that you mightpossess their 
wealth. And by a provision of the will— for Fokes was a widower, 
a foreigner, and without any friends he would have trusted, save 
you and me — if the children died before reaching maturity, the 
money would go to the trustees. You realized on all invesments 
immediately. You have now, if it is not spent, the accumulated 
wealth in hiding. 

“ I have nothing of the sort. If there was any money the out- 
break of the war swept it away ” 

“ You lie again, James Bartholemew !” 

“Ha— zounds!” 

The old wretch made as if to draw another bowie knife from that 
sheath under his coat collar. 

“You saved every dollar of it,” Fusee continued, heedless or care- 


90 


OLD FUSEE. 


less of the motion that said plainly Bartholemew would readily 
have stabbed him where he sat. “You have it now. And I am 
here to-night to make you restore it to those to whom it rightfully 
belongs. 

“Those ” 

“Yes; the babe, I told you, was saved. She has lived with me 
since I snatched her from the stream. She is now a woman, grown 
and beautiful. She has followed me in more than one campaign, 
and is known to General McClellan as Belle Fusor, one of his most 
efficient spies.” 

“ Ah 1” aspirated Bartholemew, as he saw now how it was that 
his Belle — Belle Bartholemew — had been mistaken for a spy by 
Captain Striker and others. 

He was beginning to see, too, that this man, Fane Fusor, was one 
not to be trifled with. Fusee was there to demand restitution for 
the orphans. At that moment there lay buried in his cellar the 
money in question— money that had been shrewdly doubled and 
trebled by sly investments before the opening of the war; and all 
was in gold — no paper notes of a Confederacy which might or might 
not be able to redeem its obligations was among the miser’s 
hoard. 

His brain was in a whirl at thought of giving up the yellow idols 
so safely buried. 

He leaned back in his chair and gazed with starting orbs at this 
champion of the orphans who had arisen as from the grave to 
smite his heart with terror. 

“I will not give it up!” was passing, burningly, through his 
heated brain. “ I will not be deprived of my pretty golden prizes 
at this late day. It would almost impoverish me, too, since all that 
I had which was at all available has gone to help the South 
in this struggle against the Yankee invaders. No— I will make a 
fight for it.” 

His ratty eyes — now again ratty — snapped a dangerous fire. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

A COWARDLY DEED. 

With the resolution formed to resist— though he had no definite 
idea in what mannner — the expressed intention of Fane Fusor to 
make him deliver up to the orphans the money of which he had 
robbed them, James Bartholemew then began acting a part to gain 
time during which he might be able to form some plan either to 
destroy the man before him or escape in some other way the 
actual ruin which this visit portended for him. 

Assuming a contrite manner, he said : 

“Fane Fusor, you are wronging me in supposing that I ever 
caused an assault upon your life or the life of Arnold Vokes’ 
child. True, I have handled, and spent, more or less, some of the 
principal the children would have inherited from their father and 
been possessed of ere this if I had done as I ought to. But that 
inheritance is intact. They can have it whenever they choose to 
ask for it.” 

Again, in his brain, he was saying: 

“ Zounds ! if worse comes to worse, I have not lied in that piece 
of information, for I have the gold safe— and will keep it safe, 
if I can only think of some secure means of ridding myself of 
this busybody who has risen from the grave I long ago paid 
a round sum to have him put into. I must have a little time to 
think.” 

Then, aloud : 

“I am glad, if the child fell into the stream, as you say she did, 


OLD FUSEE. 


91 


that you were there, Fane Fusor, to rescue her— very glad— yes. 
Where is she now ? I would like to see her. I would like to con- 
fess what a great rascal I have been, and ask her forgiveness. Do 
you think she will forgive me, Fane Fusor, if she realizes how 
very repentant lam ?” 

Notwithstanding his hard effort to prevent it, there was a sus- 
picious light in the ratty eyes. 

Fusee regarded him searchingly. 

“ The rescued babe,” he said, “ is now near hear. Both the chil- 
dren of Arnold Yokesare near this house at this moment.” 

“ Call her, then— call both. I will throw myself entirely upon 
their mercy and yours.” 

As if he disdained to fear anything from this villainous old man, 
Fusee arose. 

He grasped up the lamp from the table and walked toward the 
window. The action placed his back toward James Bartholomew ; 
and then into the ratty eyes came such a lurid sparkle as to have 
caused the beholder’s veins to congeal. 

Fusee advanced straight to the window and lowered the curtain 
slightly. 

Then, by a sudden motion, he showed and hid the lamp thrice, 
giving the signal agreed upon between him and those who waited, 
watching, outside. 

When he entered the house by the window that he wrenched 
open, Fusee had paused, first, in the lower .entry, to unlock the 
ponderous door opening at the rear. 

He knew that his party, guided by Belle Bartholemew, would 
have no difiiculy in entering and coming straight to the library. 

With a rapid and noiseless movement, Bartholemew pulled open 
a drawer in the trable by which he sat. 

From the drawer he snatched a dueling pistol of heavy caliber, 
cocking it without a sound. 

In a second he had the deadly tube aimed at the back of Old 
Fusee, and now his face was fairly cadaverous in its rageful and 
ghastly expression. 

Then the hammer fell, as tKe lamp gave the last flash of the sig- 
nal. 

A loud report filled the room. 

A spasmodic cry burst from Old Fusee, and while, the lamp fell 
crashing to the floor, he reeled backward a few steps, Anally sink- 
ing lifeless before the eyes of his murderer. 

Like the nozzle of some huge ape was the grinning mouth of di- 
abolical James Bartholemew, as he saw the man he feared go 
down with the fatal bullet in his back. 

“Ha, ha!” he jabbered. “You thought I would yield up the 
golden treasure that I had already stained my soul with crime for. 
You thought you had me in a corner. But I am not conquered 
yet, my bold Yankee champion of orphans! Oh, that bullet has 
found your vitals, has it!” and he stepped to the side of the pros- 
trate and motionless old gunner, holding the still smoking weapon 
in his hand. 

“ But he said that the others were close at hand. What others, 
now? Are there more than the girls?— the children of Arnold 
Yokes? That waving of the lamp was a signal of some sort. They 
will be here presently. I shall be ready to receive them— oh, yes.” 

He looked toward the doorway, listening. 

True, there sounded, a moment later, footsteps in the hall down 
stairs, and the shutting of a door. 

“Yes, they are coming. Well, let them come. I am prepared. 
If it is only the girls, I can easily manage them. Zounds! I will 
take the two in my arms and carry them to the strong room on the 
third floor and make them prisoners. I will keep them thereuntil, 


92 


OLD FUSEE. 


they starve, if necessary, but what I will make myself secure in 
the wealth I have now outlawed myself to obtain for the second 
time. They are here,” as the approaching footsteps sounded on 
the stairs. 

Somewhat to his astonishment, the party who entered was an 
officer in major’s uniform. 

Frank Carlton. 

But close behind him were the two Belles. 

They had heard the pistol shot. Belle Fusor instantly conceived 
that some peril menaced or harm had befallen the old gunner 
whom she loved with a daughter’s affection. 

It was she who first saw the prone and lifeless figure on the floor 
near the window, and she cried : 

“ Ah, Heaven ! he is killed ! Fusee is dead !” 

Speeding across the room as if oblivious of the presence of James 
Bartholemew, she knelt and raised the. bloody head to her lap, 
calling upon the dear old man to speak to her. 

But there was no response from the aged and thickly bearded 
lips of Fane Fusor. 

“Wretoh! what have you done?” demanded Carlton, striding 
forward to confront Bartholemew. 

“I have killed an accursed Yankee!” he answered, in loud wrath 
at seeing another who wore the hated blue thus boldly intrude 
into his house. “And had I another pistol, I would shoot you 
down where you stand.” 

“Uncle Jim, can it be possible that you have committed a mur- 
der?” spoke Belle, shuddering. 

“Yes, I have; and but for you and your accursed father, and 
your twin sister, I should never be what I now am — a man who 
defies you and everybody who sides with you. I will have my 
triumph yet.” 

With which speech, delivered in a shout, he made a long leap 
toward the girl as if he would have grasped and, perhaps, throt- 
tled her. 

Carlton caught and held him. 

“ I swear, by Heaven, if you have indeed killed that dear old 
man, I will run you through with my sword,” threatened the 
major, while Bartholemew kicked and struggled vainly in his em- 
bracing arms. 

Bartholemew now seemed to be seized with a degree of frenzy 
that bordered on insanity. 

Sounds inarticulate issued from his lips; healmost frothed at the 
mouth, and curses on the Yankee major poured hot and fast be- 
tween his grinding teeth. 

And while the two thus combated for the mastery, there was an- 
other sound below stairs which none heard because of the feet 
that souffled over the carpet, striking and overturning chairs and 
shivering the glass of the tall bookcase in atoms over them. 

Another tramp of feet, and, mingling in the tramp, the jangle of 
sabers. 

Carlton had as much as he could do to meet the fierce assault 
of the old secessionist, who fought with tooth, nail and kicking 
gaiters. 

A warning cry came from Belle Bartholemew, who stood yet 
near to the theshold of the library. 

With a final and successful effort Carlton hurled his wild-faced 
antagonist back to the further side of the room, then turned to see 
what meant the cry from his betrothed. 

Instantly he flashed forth his sword, and in his other hand quick- 
ly followed his revolver. 

For there in the doorway, half hideous in the swathes that were 
bound around his wounded scalp, stood Captain Sorrel, 


OLD FUSEE. 


93 


Behind the ranger captain were four men in gray cavalry attire, 
wearing huge sabers, and whose eyes, as they glanced into the 
apartment over the shoulders of their leader, were like the eyes of 
beasts that famish for some new prey. 

“ By my soul ! you infernal Yank ! I am here ! I am after you !” 
he blurted, immediately. 

“ And I am here!” retorted Carlton, stoutly. 

“ Charge in on him, boys!” the ranger captain ordered, whip- 
ping out his saber, as he utteied the words. 

Into the room sprung the eager men. 

Then there was a flash of steel in the air, and the shock of a des- 
perate conflict arose. 

The gallant major met them bravely, though they were four to 
one. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

CONCLUSION. 

Amid the ruthless havoc of bloody Antietam, Major Frank Carl- 
ton had proved himself a true and daring soldier. 

Now, when beset by such desperate odds, he displayed both a 
prowess and bravery that showed the rangers they had no com- 
mon foe to deal with. 

Clash! clash! rung the smiting steel. 

The major’s sword performed wonders that told he was an ex- 
perienced fencer. 

Wherever fell the heavy sabers, there was the sword, to meet and 
turn them aside ; and Sorrel half paused in admiration of the man 
who, while he wore the detested blue, was one to impress the be- 
holder with his astonishing bravery and skill. 

“By my life! the fellow fights like a lion with well trained 
claws. Ten to one, he would whip my rangers if I was not here.” 

Clash ! clash ! the sabers and the sword. 

Around him in an ever whizzing, gleaming circle twirled the 
blade of Carlton. Futile fell every lunge and thrust that was spite- 
fully aimed at his body. 

Then again Sorrel threw himself into the midst of the melee, 
pressing the major with a skill that was superior to that of the 
mechanically drilled rangers. 

“Dogs! cowards!” shouted brave Carlton. “Five to one you 
are! But come on!” 

As the last word left his lips, he succeeded in bringing his sharp- 
edged sword around in a terrific stroke that sliced the neck of one 
of his foes, nearly severing the head from the body. 

It was a spacious room in which this unequal and savage conflict 
waged; the ceiling was high, permitting full play for the major’s 
remarkable swordsmanship. 

Clash ! clash ! the whirring steel ! 

It was a singular circumstance that none had drawn a revolver 
to shoot Carlton, as might easily have been done, and thus at once 
terminate the struggle. 

The rangers had taken their cue from Sorrel, supposing that their 
leader’s object was to capture the Yankee alive. 

As yet, Carlton had not used his revolver. 

Now, when he found himself encompassed by five men, all eager 
for his life, and all, in his mind, base cowards to attack a man with 
such odds, he raised the hammer of the weapon with his left thumb 
—while his right hand continued those sweeps and parries which 
defied the lunges of the sabers— and suddenly thrust it forward full 
at the breast of Sorrel. 

The ranger leader saw his danger. But he saw it too late, 

Bang! exploded the tube of death, 


94 


OLD FUSEE. 


Sorrel, uttering a yell, let fall his saber, threw up his arms and 
reeled backward. 

The occurrence seemed to stagger the others for a second ; and in 
that second, availing promptly of the divertisement, again Carl- 
ton’s sword swept around, and another neck was sliced by a mortal 
wound. 

The major’s act reminded the remaining pair of rogues that they, 
too, carried revolvers. 

It was now a desperate game with them. 

If this wonderful Yankee could successfully resist the onslaught 
of tive men, and deal out wounds while he fought, what chance 
would they, only two, have before the terrible skill of that gleam- 
ing, and now bloody sword ? 

Springing backward as in one accord, they plucked forth their 
heavy cavalry revolvers before the major could follow them up 
or again cock his weapon for a shot. 

The dull barrels were leveled full at him ; in another moment he 
would assuredly have been a dead man. 

But there were others there who seemed to have been forgotten 
in the scene of combat. 

Others who possessed nerve and the will to act in just such an 
emergency as now transpired. 

Ere the cavalry revolvers could crack and pierce the gallant 
major’s body with their slug-pointed balls, there was another 
sound— the bark of two revolvers, held and aimed respectively by 
Belle Fusor and Belle Bartholomew. 

Beneath this unlooked-for tire, the last one of the fierce rangers 
sunk to the carpet that was already red with the blood of the 
slain. 

Five faces of the dead lay upturned there, and most hideous of 
all was the bandaged, ugly, scowl-browed visage of the ranger 
leader, Captain Sorrel. 

He would know no more dreams of the hundred thousand dol- 
lars, and the beautiful girl he would have persecuted. 

Panting and triumphant, Carlton rested on the point of the 
sword that had served him so well, and a faint smile overspread 
his heated face, as he said : 

“ It is a wicked scene ; but we could not help it. It was their 
lives or mine.” 

He glanced over to where the form of James Barth olemew was 
lying. 

When hurled across the r oom, the old villain in falling, had 
struck his temple against a chair, and the blow rendered him un- 
conscious. 

“What shall we do with him? I cannot murder him ; I do not 
believe he can handle a saber, or I would arm him and myself 
equally with sabers from these dead vagabonds and make him 
fight for his life. For, dear girls, I may tell you now, that Old 
Fusee revealed to me, before starting to come here, the crime 
James Bartholemew had perpetrated against you. Poor old man! 
he must have had some premonition of what was to happen, and 
took that precaution so that if he met with accident or death, I 
could carry out his intentions to the letter and obtain justice for 
you. You two are twin sisters; and if Old Fusee really is no 
more, I will explain all to you. Let us examine him more 
closely.” 

They went to the side of the prostrate gunner. 

Belle Fusor knelt again at his side, raising his head. 

As she did so, she exclaimed : 

“No! — no! he is not dead! Look! he lives— he lives! Oh, 
Heaven be praised! dear Old Fusee is still alive.” 

Still alive— but, ah ! how very, very faint was the spark that 


OLD FUSEE. 95 

lingered there, and which the girl had detected as her embracing 
hand came around over his heart. 

Fane Fusor’s eyelids quivered slightly; presently they opened 
wide, and he gazed up at those who bent over him in a dazed 
manner. 

“Do I still live and breathe?” he asked, huskily. “ Is it you, 
bright eyes ?” 

“Dear Fusee! Oh, you are alive, thank God! You are not 
mortally hurt ; no, I cannot think it.” 

He half intej rupted her in a weary, sleepy way. 

“ Do not hope for me, bright eyes ; I am dying ” 

“ Oh, no, no, no 1 ” 

“ Yes, dying. It should not be concealed. I cannot be with you 
long. You have been a dear, affectionate girl; you have loved 
Old Fusee, and I have tried to be a father to you, bright eyes — yes, 
I have tried.” 

The girl would have spoken ; but the words broke in sobs that 
she could not repress, and Belle Bartholemew and the major both 
stood with dimming eyes over the pair whose lives had been so 
strangely and closely bound together. 

“Major,” said the dying gunner, “you know the history of 
James Bartholemew’s crime. Will you see that these two treas- 
ures, these pure and beautiful girls, get back that of which they 
have been despoiled?” 

“ I swear it to you, Fusee !” 

“I know your character too well, Frank Carlton, to think that 
you will ever forget that oath. I am going — Ha ! where is James 
Bartholemew ?” v 

Old Fusee turned his head to glance across the room. 

The others, absorbed solely with him, saw not the skulking figure 
that was at that moment creeping upon them. 

Bartholemew had recovered from the blow sustained in falling, 
and instantly and noiselessly he had possessed himself of the pol- 
ished bowie knife that was sticking in the floor by the table where 
it had been knocked from his grasp by Old Fusee shortly before. 

Dropping slightly under the table, as it did at the time, and as 
the recent combat between the major and the Confederates had 
occurred at another side of the room, the sharp weapon had re- 
mained undisturbed, unnoticed there. 

Now grasping the bowie knife with a frenzied hold, and his eyes 
snapping the fire of hate and deadly resolve, he was sneaking up 
behind those who stood, unconscious of his movements, looking 
down upon the dying gunner. 

But that fortunate impulse of inquiry, and the turning of his 
head, showed Old Fusee the danger that menaced those he loved. 

“Ha! murderer !” burst from his lips. 

With the whole of his expiring strength, he thrust one hand into 
the bosom of his blouse, drawing a small revolver which he was 
wont to carry there at all times. 

In a motion that told of practical quickness, he leveled the 
weapon, cocking it as he brought it forward. 

Before the others could fully comprehend what was transpiring, 
the revolver had filled the room with its whip-like report, and a 
shriek of agony went up from James Bartholemew. 

Home to the villain’s heart had sunk the ball. 

It was the cannoneer’s last shot. 

With the action, his head dropped— -he was dead! 

With the death of Old Fusee our story is nearly told. 

Carlton removed the ghastly corpses from the house, and the 
cold form of the old gunner was gently placed upon a bier until 
arrangement could be made to give him suitable burial. 

In an after examination of the premises, the newly disturbed 


m 


OLD FUSEE. 


earth in the cellar corridor was discovered, and with a suspicion 
that the miser might have a treasure concealed there, the major 
found and made use of the same shovel with which we have seen 
James Bartholemew lay bare what was, in reality, the wealth of 
which he had despoiled the orphans. 

Ere the night grew into the small hours, the two girls were gaz- 
ing upon what they realized must be their own vast accumulation 
of inheritance from their father, Arnold Yokes. 

Of course they could never know, now that Bartholemew was 
dead, exactly how much they had been robbed of; but the glit- 
tering heap of gold laid bare by^the shovel in the major’s hands 
was an immense amount, and euough to provide them with every 
comfort so long as they should live. 

By the dialogue that passed between James Bartholemew and 
Old Fusee, the reader knows how deep had been the wrong perpe- 
trated upon the beautiful orphans. 

Heaven had wrought out retribution in its own wise way, 
though at the cost of the life of one that was noble and endeared 
beyond words to one of the two Belles whose adventures we have 
followed in the vicinity of the Autietam during the memorable 
struggle between the Federals and the grays. 

Carlton remained with the girls in the great stone house over 
which hung the mourning of death; 

They were very quiet there; and by a dispensation of fortune, 
the building was not molested by the Confederate hosts so near, 
who, had they dreamed that inside those tight, closed windows 
was one who wore the hated blue, would have rased each partic- 
ular piece of masonry, but what they would have sacrificed him 
without delay. 

The morning of the eighteenth came. 

True to the prophecy of the hoary-headed gunner who lay sleep- 
ing his last sleep in one of the rooms up stairs, there sounded no 
hurst of guns, nothing to indicate that again the waves of carnage 
were sweeping over the Antietam. 

The day passed, and under cover of that night Lee withdrew 
with his army, disorganized and suffering, back to the soil of 
Virginia. 

When the retreat was assured, Carlton ventured forth, and the 
first act of his party was to see that dear Old Fusee was tenderly 
laid away in a grave whereon were strewn flowers of fragrance 
watered by tears of love. 

Of the further adventures of Major Carlton, the record of the — 
Pennsylvania Reserves must speak. 

Soon after the events we have related, he was marching again 
with McClellan toward Warrentou, and the beautiful sisters were 
on their way North. 

But when Frank Carlton’s term expired, he returned for his 
promised bride, and there was a brilliant wedding in that time, 
now more than twenty years ago, iu which the gallant major and 
the beautiful Southern girl were the principals. 

Belle, the spy, continued in that capacity until the war closed, 
and since then has been the loved and honored wife of a Union 
general. 

[THE END.] 


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1— MAJ03 HOTSPUR. By Marline Manly. 

2— BLUE Od GRAY. By Ward Edwards, 

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4— 0, M TO RICHMOND. By Maj. A. F. Grant. 

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13— TRUE BLUc. By Maj. A. F. Grant. 

14— CROSSED SWORDS. By Corp. Morris 

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15— FIGH TING PAT. By Bernard Wayde. 
18— UNDER TWO FLAGS. By Morris Bed- 
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17— STARS AND STRIPES. By Major Hugh 

Warren. 

18- BATTLE ECHOES. By Maj r Walter 

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13— CANNONEER BOB. By Maj. A. F. .rant. 

20— BAT i LE BEN. By Morris Bed wing. 

21— SHOULDER-STRAPS. By Maj -r o alter 

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22— SEVEN PINES. By Warren Walters. 

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27— TH C FATAL CARBINE. By Maj. Walter 
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29 — GUNBOAT DAVE. By Morris Redwing. 
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31— HARO TACK. By Maj. Walter Brisbane. 
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33— FARRAGUTS SPY. By Maj. A. F. Grant. 
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37— CAPTAIN IrtONWRIST. By Maj Walter 

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39 — CAMP P|RES. By Warren Walters. 

40 — MORGAN'S ROUGH RIDERS By Major 

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43 — H Alt P£R S FERRY. By M .jor Walter 

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45— CLEAR GRIT. By Marline Manly. 

46— THE RIVAL COURIERS. By Harry St. 

George. 

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48— DOWN IN O’X'F. By Hugh Allen, of 

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49— LIBBY PRISON. By Col Oram Efior. 

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51— UNDER FIRE. By Anthony P. Morris. 

52— MARCHING ON. By Marline Manly. 

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